Thicker Than Water
by NoirAngelique
Summary: Through a whirlwind of a power struggle, Laramie has taken her rightful place in her home world. But heavy is the head that wears the crown, especially when they must wear it alone.  Sequel to 'Under the Suns'
1. Prologue

To Gloria

Prologue

Riddick turned to glance over his shoulder at the sound of slight movement. Laramie's small form had turned over under the blankets on the bed, eyes still closed peacefully. The covers slid down a bit to leave one shimmering, brown shoulder exposed. That small glimpse of tender, tangible skin was almost enough to send him scurrying back into bed. And _that_ was enough to let him know what he was doing was right.

The last few months had been hectic, each day either went horribly wrong or incredibly right. The local towns people had been more than willing to help when they found out who Laramie was and why she was back. It turned out that the war on Gloria had ended with its inhabitants deciding to elect the person closest to being 'pure-blooded' Fidèles to power. It was a faulty way of building a power structure, but it was better than them killing each other off completely. Bell Hine, the current queen, had been the one to emerge victorious when the tracing of the family trees was over. However, both of Laramie's parents had been Fidèles, making her full-blooded, and also making her eligible to be queen. She was the only person alive who could bump the queen out of her throne and take over. She'd been a living legend, the pure blood queen, but they'd thought her to be no more than a pleasant illusion.

With the help of the townsfolk, and, naturally, behind the queen's back, they'd taken it before the courts. Riddick presented as evidence, the bag of books and photos that Laramie had so stubbornly tugged along for the ride. The courts approved, and were currently tracing Laramie's family tree, for procedure's sake of course. The planet was already all abuzz with talk of their myth-come-true. It'd been a week since the courts had finally considered the photos as reasonable evidence. Now all they'd had to do was wait it out. Not too long a wait, but it had managed to be long enough.

They'd finally given in to the pull between them and were bonded three-fold now. And that was the problem. All he'd wanted was a familiar person. Someone who could be his, no matter what happened. But he'd gotten more than that. Much more. He'd let her get in too close and now she was planted, unmovable, and too close to his cold heart for his comfort. People would be after him again someday, and if he stayed, they'd figure out why and go for her just to get to him. He couldn't let that happen. His first mistake had been letting her get too close. The second had been letting her stay that way. He wouldn't stick around to make a third.

He strapped the goggles over his eyes again, and looked back at her one more time. She shifted again as if she could feel the weight of his heavyhearted gaze through her dreams. He crept to the bed, boots thudding softly on the floor, and leaned in close to her, taking in one last whiff of the sweet scent of her skin. He ran his face along the line of exposed skin, hovering just above it, and brought it back up to her face to lay a soft kiss on her lips. She twisted and slid down beneath the blankets until the shoulder, which had grown cold, was once again covered. He stood upright again, casting one more glance over her sleeping figure, before turning and leaving. He made the trip to the ship bay, a short distance from the flat they'd lived in together, a quick one.

The people of Gloria were too trusting. They always left their ships unguarded. This presented Riddick with the opportunity to take his pick from a bay full of treats. The urge to turn back and close the distance between them was becoming overbearing so he hurried.

The sun was rising again when he launched, the taste of Laramie still on his lips, leaving her to wake in a cold bed with the cool sun filtering in on her face.


	2. Chapter 1

**[Author's Note: **Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. I've been a lot under the weather. But I hope you enjoy and I'll try to have the next one up as soon as I can. Thanks for reading.**]**

Thicker Than Water

Chapter One

(5 years later)

The blood drops shimmered against the silky fabric of her white dress. It had been a long day. Another attempt on her life in the early morning hours and then she'd spent the rest of the day watching the assassin be interrogated to no avail. Laramie'd finally broken away from the horde and gotten some time to herself in her favorite place: the courtyard. She sat on a stone bench just off of the shaded walkway that surrounded the square and looked out onto the splendor of the berry-clad bushes, flowers, and fountains.

A small sound drew her gaze to the shaded walkway just behind her. "I apologize, your majesty, for the intrusion," came the familiar voice. Mikah stood on the walkway, his tall and broad frame hidden in shadows. He was the head of security for Gloria and a royal guard. They'd known each other from the moment she'd been crowned, and they'd admired each other not long after that. She once liked to think she was too busy for such things, but, over the years, Mikah had grown on her, and vice versa.

"Its fine, Mikah," she said, scooting over to make room for him.

He stepped forward, raising the metal helmet from his head and sitting it on his knee as he perched next to her. "You have a message from New Mecca, Helion Prime," his voice came in soothing baritone waves, "There are two strangers here to give it though and they say it requires your presence."

She nodded, "I'll be right in." She said it in a dismissive tone that she thought would ward him off. But he sat where he was, with no sudden movements. It took her a moment between wishing he'd go and wondering why he wouldn't, to realize his reasoning. "Mikah…I'll be fine."

"You said that earlier," he said, "You'll need to do better to get me gone this time around." She shot him a protesting look and his stern gaze didn't falter. "I can't help but feel like you aren't taking these attempts very serious at all. And you should be."

"I am," she said, "I just try not to let them soak in too far. Otherwise it would bother me more than usual simply because we don't yet know why its happening. There's not enough details and I'd spend all of my time trying to wrap my head around it."

"Out of sight, out of mind, never really helped anybody though, did it," he asked. She nodded and stood from the bench. Tonight was not a night that she felt like being scolded. Especially not when there was business to take care of. She moved around him and stepped back onto the walkway, pausing momentarily so that he wouldn't be too far behind. His heavier steps followed soon after. She cast one last glance out onto the courtyard, and by the time she turned around again he was already holding the door open for her. Light from the inside of the palace engulfed her as she stepped from the dim glow of dusk in the courtyard.

The palace was beautiful enough to qualify as a favorite place. Its white marble walls stretched upward to an amazing height and its sand colored floors shone as they stretched onward down the corridor. Someone hand draped crimson curtains from the ceiling so that they hung down the walls in certain places, perfectly framing statues or paintings. There were uniquely shaped chandeliers that were mounted along the walls higher up to cast light through the hall. As they walked along, the wall to their right opened between two pillars into a spacious room couches and a fireplace. They sent people to wait there when they were waiting for a meeting with Laramie and she was busy. She paused briefly at the opening because she expected the strangers to be there. "They're already in the conference room," Mikah informed, a bit late.

She marched on, just a few more paces, and to the left a door opened before she could fully stop at it. The conference room was always warm enough to be cozy but never too hot. It was done in shades of gray, black, and a dark brown. Large bookshelves lined the walls around a small round table. Two guards were always posted at the door and they stepped to the side, bowing slightly as she entered. She took her seat with her back to the door and Mikah took his right across the table from her. He'd asked, humbly, that they sit that way because he felt better being able to see everyone in the room and everyone who entered.

The two strangers sat to either side of them. One was an older woman; dark brown skin similar to Laramie's, and her hair was tied into a black and gray bun. The other was a young man, tanned skin and short blonde hair. They were clad in the same attire she remembered the people of New Mecca wearing when she'd been there. It made her miss Imam. A light knock sounded on the door and it opened almost automatically. Shazza walked in, looking like her usual self. Leather, leather, leather, but since she'd come to stay on Gloria something about her always seemed to glow. She took a chair that was tucked between two bookshelves, just over Laramie's shoulder. "Welcome to Gloria," Laramie said.

"Thank you, Queen," the visitors spoke in unison.

"I've been told you had a message for me," she said, voice utterly calm. There was something behind the shining, deliberate look of kindness in their eyes. Something she couldn't pinpoint and didn't like.

"Yes," the woman said, "Your presence has been requested on Helion Prime in the city of New Mecca. We desire an alliance with you, and some emergency assistance." The woman shifted in her chair and brought her hands up above the table, fingers folded. Mikah's attention shifted to that it was fully on the younger man. He must have been watching to see what their hands had been doing under the table. "The necromongers have come to New Mecca. Our defenses are gone and they are trying to convert us all. They're going to strip us of our religion, our beliefs. We need your help."

News had reached Gloria of the necromongers. But they dealt in death and the Vivant galaxy was a place of life. The necromongers had been a very small concern so far. "We were told you could assist us," this from the younger man, "And so we came with haste and hope that you will return with us with the same haste."

Mikah looked at her and his eyes said that he felt something wasn't quite right with this either. But with no verbal objection from him, or Shazza, Laramie's advisor, she nodded. "We will come," she said, "But not just this minute. You'll need to return and relay this message. Have them hold them off as long as they can."

"We cannot hold them for long," the woman said, "They've already begun killing anyone who opposes."

"I apologize," Laramie said, "But for now this is as good as we can do. You'll have to do your part as best you can and we will do as much as we can for you." They nodded and glanced between each other. Laramie stood, shortly followed by Mikah and Shazza and the pattern continued around the room. "Gentlemen, please have them escorted safely back to their ship and make sure they have more than enough resources to securely complete the trip home."

The visitors gave short bows to her and were ushered back out the door by the two guards. They shut the doors behind them and left Shazza, Mikah, and Laramie alone to converse. "Imam," Shazza said.

"I know," Laramie replied, "But I don't know about them. There was something they weren't telling us, and leaving out truth is the same as lying in my book." Mikah nodded silently and Laramie lowered her gaze to the shining tabletop. The light from the chandelier danced along the reflective surface. "We'll make the trip," she said, breaking a short but thought filled silence. "But Mikah, I want a portion of the guards with us. Shazza, I'd love it if you would come along as well. I could use a fresh perspective or two on this one." They nodded slowly but it was Shazza that spoke the concern that hung in the back of her mind.

"And Zion," she asked.

Laramie frowned slightly, "We'll have to make hasty arrangements and try to be back as soon as we can."

"Majesty," Mikah said, "We are walking into a war zone. Nothing about this is going to be quick, lest we leave prematurely and bring the fight back to our own front." Leave it to Mikah to bring the ugly truth into the matter. "Bring him along. He'll be guarded closely."

She sighed, "Fine. But I'm charging _you_ with his safety, Mikah. Don't disappoint me." She slid out from between her chair and left the room before she gave in to the urge to soften the order she'd given him. Laramie couldn't afford to be nice on this matter. And besides, she had some fast packing to do. No footsteps followed her as she paced to her chambers, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. A long day had just gotten much longer for her. Thanks to technological advancements, the trip would be a lot shorter this time than it had been the first time. There was always a bright side, and this time it was that she wouldn't have to float in the dead of space for as long as she had with Riddick. The stay, however, was open ended at the moment.

As stepped into the pressing silence of her bedroom, she stopped short. Out of the corner of her eye she'd swear she'd seen him. The goggles pushed up, and those eyes piercing down on her. She turned slowly but made the mistake of blinking because when her eyes opened again the room was empty, just her and the lingering memory of what she'd thought she'd seen. She shut the door gently, blinking her soft gray eyes against the press of sleep. Exhaustion does a number on the mind.


	3. Chapter 2

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Two

"Two in one day," Laramie asked, careful not to turn her attention away from the assassin. It was the second one in one day. Somebody was getting eager and she didn't like it at all. They'd been there when she looked up from packing her bag. She hadn't heard anyone come in so she assumed they must have been there the whole time. Stealthy. She knew her room pretty well so hiding in it should have been difficult.

She'd turned over her shoulder, expecting to see him, because the last ten had come disguised as him too. But the shock of seeing him standing there never truly lessened. Riddick's form stood tall and all too familiar in front of her. This one even wore that annoying face that he had when his eyes were hidden. She did the only thing she could think to do and reached down the thin thread of a connection that stretched between them. They were bonded tight enough that she could tell if Riddick was standing in front of her or sitting huddled in some dark place on a whole other planet. She still sensed him distant. It was just another fake.

He'd made the mistake of letting her drift closer to her vanity, and the blade hidden on the underside of it, courtesy of Mikah. "No fun," he spoke in that old deep tone, "Was hoping you wouldn't get scared until I got you close enough to do this quickly. But easy way or hard way, these are your last moments queen." The voice was warm and welcoming enough to make her pause. And that pause gave him an opening. He lunged forward at her, arm swinging back and the flash of metal in his hand. She took hold of the hilt of the blade, a little longer than her forearm, and pulled it out.

He struck out from the left and she curved her body to the right to avoid the blade, which she could see clearly was made of titanium. Titanium was the only substance that could wound a Fidèles and slow their healing process enough for it to kill them. He brought his other hand around and punched her in the mouth while she was focused on dodging the blade. Her head snapped to the side hard enough to make her neck pop and a line of blood sprayed from between her lips. When she brought her gaze back around to him it was fading black around the edges.

He was bringing the blade around for another strike. This one was aimed, awkwardly, to slice across her throat. He was moving slower. The anticipation of victory had made him clumsy. Amateur mistake. She slipped to her knees and drove her own blade upwards and into his torso just beneath his ribs. At the angle of entry she knew it would get his heart and so she shoved the blade in to the hilt, having to raise to a half stand again to do so. The man dropped the knife and it made a soft thud against the plush carpet. He fell to his knees in front of her, putting them at almost eye level. For a moment she wanted the rip off those goggles and make dang sure she hadn't killed the real thing, but she resisted it. "Mikah," she called, as the assassin fell into a motionless heap.

Two guards that must've been standing outside the door rushed in and stopped just inside of the room, staring down at the immobile figure. Laramie stared down at it too. Shifters, they called them. They were believed to be descended from a group of elementals that came to populate Gloria's neighboring planet. They took on the form of anything, or anyone, they deemed useful. Each one needed one element in order to shift, usually carried in a small orb pendant around their wrist or neck. But staring down at the still figure, she felt uneasy at the thought of checking. Shifters took their true form when killed, so either she'd killed the real thing, or it wasn't dead yet.

Mikah rushed into the room, blade drawn, but he'd rushed so quickly that his helmet was still off. He eyed the figure closely as he moved toward Laramie. Shazza came in next, shutting the door to close the outside world off from the scene. "He's not changing," Laramie whispered.

"He will," Mikah spoke softly, "You got him in a good spot, and it'll take some time." She knew he was right, but still something about staring down at his body, the pool of blood spreading out from under him, made her heart clench. The still figure twitched and brought a gasp from everyone but Mikah. He gripped his blade as if preparing to strike. The body twitched again and this time the skin began to ripple like colored water with unseen things swimming under the surface. The skin bubbled and shrank, sinking in some places and sticking out in others, until it left them staring down at a young female; her eyes closed in permanent sleep.

The girl was bald and bore an almost eerie resemblance to Jack the last time Laramie'd seen her. She let out a sigh of relief as Mikah moved to grab the bag she'd packed from the bed. "Go to the ship," he said, "Zion is already on board and everything is prepared for departure. We will arrange to have this cleaned up." He turned that spectral gaze to her and reached the hand that was free out to her. She hadn't noticed him put his sword away. "Give me the blade," he said, "I'll clean it and put it back. You did well."

She nodded, a little too rapidly, and gave him the blade. He shooed her out of the room and into the crowd of guards waiting in the hall with eager eyes. Shazza followed as usual, Mikah always made her stay with Laramie. She turned her back to them all, giving herself a moment to wipe away whatever doe-eyed expression was there. No weakness, not in front of them. She squared her shoulders and turned back to them, nodding to signal that she was ready.

The small crowd of guards moved off down the hall, falling in to a circle around her as they moved. The side of her face that she'd been punched in was beginning to throb painfully and she brought a hand up to touch it. These encounters were getting too close for comfort. Two in one day, couldn't a girl get a break? Mikah was going to have a field day on the two guards who'd been outside of the door and hadn't heard the struggle within the room.

They rushed them through the large wooden doors at the dark end of the hall and up the small flight of stairs to the royal ship bay. Five ships were there, because the previous royal family had been mostly male and they'd enjoyed traveling alone. Four of them were small, five, maybe eight, passengers. The fifth one was anything but. It stood in the new moonlight like a glistening sword, all tall, thin and long. Windows lined the side and some of them were curtained. They'd built the ship with a sleek shape so that it moved through space easier and cut travel time into fractions. The entrance ramp slanted down the side to rest on the floor. As she ascended it, she glanced up into the sky and saw the distance glimmer of the messenger's ship. They wouldn't be too far behind. Good. The cavalry would come fast.

"No time for star gazing," Shazza said, and when Laramie looked at her she was smiling, "We have friends who need your help." One of the main reason she'd made Shazza her advisor was because she always managed to keep a relatively cool head. Even now it was as if what had just happened hadn't phased her at all. Laramie smiled back, fleetingly, and stepped onto the ship, feeling a little bit safer now that she wasn't out in the open anymore. The back wall in the loading foyer was glassy and flashed a glistening reflection back at Laramie as she passed it. What she saw stopped her again, for the second time in one night. But this time it wasn't the face of some old lost lover that she saw, it was her own.

The cheek that she'd been punched in had begun to darken into a purple blemish and swell. She almost reached a hand up to touch it but just sighed and shook her head instead. The sooner they found out who was sending shifters to kill her the better, but for now, Shazza was right. They had friends in need.


	4. Chapter 3

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Three

The shimmering golden dust of the Vivant galaxy fell away as Laramie stared out of the window in her room. Something about the dull hum of space passing outside of the ship, the very faint rocking motion it made, made her feel restless.

Mikah had sent three guards along to sit with her for a while, they were all female and the sound of their chatter was soft background noise. They sat huddled on the carpet in their pliable armor. It'd been designed for the female guards so that it could be cut into more comfortable and fitting patterns. For quite some time Mikah had forced them to wear hard armor beneath it, but when the assassination attempts began, the soft armor had proven itself worthy on several occasions.

She stood from her seat on the windowsill and moved to the bed. It hung from the ceiling by four steel beams and loomed there all dressed in black and white. It was so far off of the ground that they had had to place a small ladder for her. As she pulled back the blankets a handful of the pillows scattered, some falling to the floor. She slid under the blankets and pulled them up over her face, letting her mind relax and. For the first time all day, sleep finally began to come to her in gradual waves. Unfortunately, it didn't get close enough before the door opened and Shazza was standing there, framed in the dim light of the hall. "Zion's calling for you," she said. Laramie sat up again and slid back down from the bed without the ladder. The carpet was soft and warm under bare foot, tempting her to climb back into bed and rest.

She padded out of the room behind Shazza who'd already made her way back into the hall and was headed for Zion's room. They'd kept distance between the two for Zion's own safety, because of the assassins, but they hadn't kept them too far apart. He did well on his own sometimes but he still had his moments and they needed Laramie nearby.

A mere three rooms down the hall Shazza swiped her security chip and opened the door to their right. Zion's room was green, his favorite color, and filled with a great amount of the toys from his room at home. Apparently none of that had been enough to appease the child who sat in the middle of the floor, distress written on his face. His large, familiar gray eyes filled with unshed tears as he looked up at her. Laramie went to scoop him up into her arms and he laid his head on her shoulder, piteously. Assassins or not, he would only go so long without seeing his mother.

She sat in a rocking chair that had been placed in the far corner, and slouched in on herself as much as she could without squishing her son. He moved to stretch himself into a curving line across her stomach, leaving his head to rest on her chest, face turned up to look at her. His eyes were droopy with sleep already but he fought stubbornly to keep them open. She rocked in the chair slowly, making soft hushing sounds to the upset child.

"You should be in bed," it was Mikah's voice. She hadn't heard him come in, but she was too tired to be startled. His tone wasn't scolding like she thought it would be. "Is he alright?"

"Just upset," she murmured, "He's about as tired of this as I am. Have we made any contact with the Shifters yet?"

"No," he said, "We've sent their king messages but there have been no replies. We'll have to wait a bit longer before assuming his silence means he is participating in this." She nodded and stood from the chair, clutching the child close to her chest and heading for the door. Laramie retook the short trip between the two rooms with Mikah's heavy footsteps in tow. She tucked the child in on the side of the bed furthest from the door. He grew silent and, by the time she got back into bed, his eyes were closed and he'd given in to the call of sleep. She curled up on her own side and looked down on her sleeping child. He looked so much like his father that sometimes in made her heart ache.

The sound of movement drew her gaze back out into the room. The guards were leaving quietly and Mikah stood just inside of the door, nodding to them as they went by. Laramie closed her eyes and rested her head on two pillows, listening to the distant call of sleep in the slow rhythm of her child's breathing. "Mikah," she uttered.

"Go to sleep," he said, "I'll take watch until you wake up."

Her mind became light and heavy all at once and she could feel consciousness drifting away. This time she slept long enough to dream of the messengers from New Mecca. They were sitting and talking to her again but their eyes were cast in shadows. She moved and tried to gain a better vantage but their eyes were always lost in the deep dark.

She woke again to the slight movement of Zion turning over in his sleep but quickly fell back into the dream. This time the room was foggy and there was something wrong with their hands. They were mutilated and misshapen and they tried to keep them hidden from her sight. The fog in the room grew dark and, over one of their shoulders, she could see Zion playing on the balcony of his room. The room behind him was filled with thick darkness and out of the dark glistened a blade, a curved blade; one that she recognized. It struck out but cut her where it should have cut Zion. Cut after cut, slice after slice.

She woke with a jolt and the phantom sensation of blood running down her arms, hot to the touch. Mikah sat at the foot of the bed with cold eyes. She brought up a hand to rub across her eyes. "How long," she murmured, voice heavy with sleep.

"Almost two full sleep cycles," he said, "We thought we'd let you sleep and wake on your own, but we are getting close to our destination now and there has been a response from the shifter king. You missed breakfast but lunch is soon." He eyed her slowly. "What did you dream of?"

She shook her head. "We can have sharing time later. Where is Zion?" She hadn't meant for it to sound as mean as it had.

"They took him out to the training area and are letting him play games with the maids," he replied, seemingly unmoved by her rude tone. Mikah rarely ever took things to heart, or so it seemed. Perhaps he was just very good at keeping reactions masked. Either way it was one of his most favorable attributes in her eyes.

Laramie nodded and slid slowly from the bed. "Please leave," she said, pacing to the bathing room, "I'll be out soon." His move to leave was a hesitant one but he did as she asked. The bath she took was a quick one, no time to relish in it. She changed into a dark blue dress that hugged her top and flared out from the waist down to sweep at the floor in billowing motions when she moved. She left her hair to fall in damp waves down her back. Her eyes glistened like starlight against the darkness of the fabric.

Mikah was outside of the door when she stepped into the hall and he nodded to her before turning on his heel and leading towards the dining area. Sometimes she felt odd having people just turn and walk without a word. She followed when she was needed and just watched them awkwardly when she wasn't. It was almost dizzying to watch them all buzz around busily, taking no time to enjoy the simplest factors of their freedoms. Its one of the things she held dearest about the courtyard. Everything seemed to slow down to be admired more carefully. Measured beauty.

He passed the dining area, which struck her as odd but then she thought of the message from the shifter king and realized they were going to the conference room. The large metallic room with its projection screen looming against the far wall opened up to their left. Laramie sat with her back to the door as usual but this time it offered her the best view of the screen. "I'd like to play the message before eating," she said flatly, "I can't wait any longer for the answers."

One of the guards stationed along the walls nodded and stepped to a small control window. A light shone from over the door and the other lights in the room grew dim. On the projection screen stood the enlarged face of Leo, the king of the shifters. "Greetings, Queen Laramie," he began, his voice grainy and hearty, "I've received your messages and I apologize for the length between replies. There were investigations to be held. You see, this was the first I'd heard of the attacks and I surely don't tolerate or promote such behavior. Unfortunately the most I've learned so far is that there is someone powerful coming in and talking my people into this by promising them a share in the spoils, whatever they may be." The image flickered and steadied itself again. "I will have a public address to discourage this behavior and to try and coax out anyone with more information. Until then you have my word that I will keep a watchful eye and when I find them I will deliver them to you. Farewell, for now."

The screen went white and the lights came up again. Laramie stared at the screen as if the king's image was still burned there. Her fingers tapped lightly, idly, on the tabletop and her lip curved inward with thought. That frown that sat so out of place of her features lightened and she sat up straighter. "We'll wait then," she said, "Whatever is going on is being initiated on his turf as a direct undermining of his power. I'm sure he will be quick in getting to the bottom of it." She left unsaid that this was making him look weak to his own people, an insult. And he didn't take too well to insults. She'd never met King Leo but he'd sent a few people to Gloria to represent his kingdom in fellowship. They had seemed almost obsessive about behaving honorably so that they did not shame their king. It'd made her wonder how he punished misconduct.

"Let's eat," she said, "How long until we reach New Mecca?"

"No more than an hour," this from Shazza who'd sat quietly the whole while, "Captain says the new engines helped cover more space in a little less time. He also says that the messenger ship ahead of us had two visiting ships on the radar last night. They hovered around for a while and vanished."

"Keep an eye on them," Laramie said, to no one and everyone, "I didn't want to be rude but there's…something there. Something we weren't told. And telling half of the truth is still a lie in my eyes." They nodded and let out a soft chorus of concurring sounds. They all sat and waited for Laramie to eat first. She picked quickly from a bowl of berries and left it at that. Food was not a front-running concern of hers. What lay in wait for them on Helion Prime, however, was.

Imam. She was surprised he hadn't come to fetch her himself. Maybe something was wrong. The thought of the old friend being harmed made her stomach twist and threatened what little appetite she had. She sat and watched the others eat, leaving her food barely touched. She'd taken one blueberry and began to roll it along her fingertips, staining them purplish-blue. Soon the sound of conversation filled the room, friendly, and laced with laughter, but it dwindled as the others finished eating and excused themselves.

"Your majesty," she turned to the door to see one of the co-pilots. They always brought extras, just in case. "We are landing. We need you in the exit cabin, please." Mikah was up and moving towards her before the pilot had finished his announcement.

She stood stepped into the hall, this time with Mikah following her. The other guards filed in behind them in silence. As they migrated down the hallway the sound of laughter rang in her ears. Zion was already in the exit cabin with the maids. Laramie stopped and frowned. "No," she said, "He stays on board."

"Nobody will be here to watch him," Shazza said, "The maids are coming too."

"Their presence isn't needed," she said, turning to the maids, "Stay on board and keep him with you."

"I _want_ to go," he whined. He was four now and, since his last birthday, he had been eager to follow after the soldiers, even if they were headed into danger. When Laramie was busy and Mikah was not, he spent every waking moment with Mikah. He'd even asked for armor while they walked through the market place the week before. Growing up to be a soldier was an honorable thing, but he was growing up too fast for her.

Laramie frowned and reached to tuck one of his brown curls behind his ear while he looked at her with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, "I can't compromise on this, sweetheart. You have to stay on board."

The ship jolted and groaned as it contacted the ground. A feeling crept over her skin. It was familiar; she knew it in the way that one knows an old book they used to favor. Riddick. She didn't have to reach out through the bonds to know that he was somewhere on the planet they'd just landed on. But where? And why?

As the sound of the engine shutting down and the exit ramp lowering reached her ears, Laramie's mind reached back to the dream from the night before, the blade striking out from the darkness for her baby, and wounding her instead. When she looked over at him he was still looking at her with that beseeching gaze. "Bring him along," she said, and her voice had gone soft and severe, "But guard him before you guard me. If he is harmed for the laxity of one of you, _all_ of you will pay dearly for it."

Mikah leaned over her shoulder as the exit ramp touched ground. "We should leave him on board," he said.

"I agree," she said, "But I'd rather have him with me than have him out of my sight. At least this way I know he's being protected, even if it comes down to me having to do it myself."

"It will not come to that," he said, straightening his large frame up again. He waited, like the others, for Laramie to move, so that the mob could serge forward with her.

Zion reached up and took hold of her hand and she grasped his firmly, but not too firm. He smiled up at her and swung their hands back and forth in mid-air. He was back to his usual playful self, which worried her because his usual self had no place in whatever they were about to step into. There was no guarantee of what was waiting outside of the ship but she knew that whatever it was, she wanted him out of it. Couldn't leave him at home, couldn't leave him on the ship, shouldn't take him along. She wondered if there was anyplace safe for her son. There might always be someone, some blade, striking out from the darkness, aiming to hurt her. And as the New Meccan sunlight fell into the exit cabin, she couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he got caught in the cross fires.

**[Author's Note: **Sorry for the absence everyone. Things have been pretty hectic lately, but I am back on the keyboard and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think, ask some questions, scold me for being a late author. That kind of thing. Thank you for reading.**]**


	5. Chapter 4

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Four

Laramie stood staring at the smoking ruins that were the remains of New Mecca. Her eyes were wide and sorrowful, her lips slightly parted in shock. Shazza stood next to her, holding Zion's other hand and taking everything in as well. The soldiers had gathered behind her loosely. They were all on alert. Nobody had expected things to be this bad. The piles of stone and flaming cloth served as a heartbreaking shadow of the city it once was.

She walked on, holding her son's hand tight and the group moved forward with her, almost unified. They moved on to what looked like it'd been a large main road but was now speckled with fallen rocks. She took in the sight of the old vender's booths lying in piles of stone and wood. Houses reduced to pebbles and, as they stepped a bit further, bodies emerged from the wreckage. Laramie gasped and scooped Zion up quickly. "Close your eyes," she whispered to him, and he hid his face in her shoulder.

The messengers stepped out from the rubble when they'd walked about half the visible length of the road. Laramie looked them over; taking note of how unmoved them seemed to be. This had been their home, and they didn't even spare a frown. Something was definitely wrong about them. "The others are meeting in the gathering hall," the woman spoke.

"Its just this way," this from the young man. They both turned and lead off down the road. Mikah stepped ahead of the group and moved them forward at a sustainable pace. As they walked along, the soldiers fell into that protective circle they often took up around her, a barrier of bodies with her, Zion, and Shazza at the center. She hadn't seen Mikah tell them to do anything; maybe they just felt it was necessary.

Up in the distance, some of the smoke cleared, and a large statue came into view. It towered up over the city, into the sky so far that it would have disrupted the flow of any clouds. The ruins of the city fell away and they were left pacing through a field of sand and dust. "There used to be buildings here," Shazza said, "Houses, temples, stores…schools."

"They've wiped it all out," Laramie said, "It's almost complete barren wasteland now." Shazza took Zion out of Laramie's arms and fell into tow behind Laramie with him held in her arms as the circle of soldiers narrowed. The statue had grown on the horizon until they were finally navigating around its massive base. Their eyes shifted between the statue and the gathering hall, which came slowly into view around the statue, a dome glistening in the dull sunlight. It looked to be the only thing left untouched in the city, perhaps on purpose.

Laramie peered beyond the gathering hall and frowned at the line of strange ships. They had faces on them and some of them hovered along without sound, blurring the other ships as they passed. She'd never seen anything like it and, if given the choice, would have kept it that way. Their footsteps clicked as they stepped onto the slick pathway that led to one of the entrances to the gathering hall.

The messengers stopped and knocked heavily, three times, on the doors that lay shaded by an overhanging portion of the roof. Mikah stopped the group a bit more than an arm's length behind them. Some called Mikah paranoid, but his caution always came in handy.

There was silence from within the gathering hall and then the sound of clunky footsteps grew louder. The doors creaked open inward and two armor-clad men stood just inside. The messengers went in first and Mikah led the group after them. More of the armored men ushered them down a staircase and Laramie followed blindly. The guards had closed the circle so tight that she couldn't see past them. Her feet finally touched flat ground and the circle shifted and parted before the movement stopped completely. The part left Shazza and Zion hidden, but Laramie was visible to those who stood directly ahead of the space.

She stepped past the soldiers and some of them made small movements as if to stop her. They were on the floor in the center of the hall with the armored men and what was left of the civilians all around them on raised platforms. The civilians were kneeling, but the fear on their faces let her know they didn't want to. A man stepped forward. He was older, and armored like the other strangers but his helmet had faces on each side. He stopped just in front of her and bowed shortly, face twisted into a self-righteous mug. "Queen Laramie," he said.

"Yes," she said, and let her voice sound as tired and irritated as it could.

"I am Lord Marshall of the Necromongers," he said. He placed a hand to his chest and brought it out to reach for her.

She stared at the extended hand with a gaze so harsh that he withdrew it and flexed it as if the gaze had stung him. "With all due respect, which doesn't amount to much," she began, "I'm not here to see you. I was summoned by the elders of New Mecca."

He chuckled shortly, "I _regret_ to inform you, but the elders are no longer with us. However, since you are here, I would like an audience with you myself."

"And if I decline," she asked, and the soldiers shifted around behind her.

"If you decline," he said, "You will watch everyone you've brought with you, die…slowly."

She nodded slowly, but her gaze didn't soften where she set it to burn into his face. "I mean no offense," she said, "But, even with such larger numbers, having your men defeat mine would be quite a feat. I know of you and your people. You deal in death, we deal in life, and, on this plane, we are dominant in that match." There was movement among the armored men this time. "However, I'll grant you your audience. More bloodshed is the last thing the people of New Mecca need to see right now."

"Very well," he said and turned to pace away from her, "I will start by being honest. _I _called you here. I wanted to meet on neutral land." He turned to move around the outside of the circle. "You see, you have something that I think could be quite useful to me. As you surely know, we work for the sole purpose of reaching the threshold to the Underverse. Thanks to some theories and, of course, minor experiments, I've come to believe that you and your home planet hold a key to us reaching our destination."

He moved to stand near her again and she eyed him, still listening. "The magic of life mingling with the science of death. And somewhere in between will be a balance that provides us with a window to the threshold-"

"No," Laramie said, flat and firm, "Anything else?"

The Lord Marshall frowned deeply at her but his mouth twisted into a smile. It was an odd expression and she had no idea what it meant. "Very well then," he said, "Take the queen to a cage. _Kill_ the others." Laramie stepped back from him and closer to the group. She could live without being next to the guards, but, in that moment, she wanted to be next to her son.

Mikah stepped in between Laramie and the Lord Marshall. He had a long, two-handed sword out and had taken a defensive stance. "Halt," the Lord Marshall shouted. He stepped back and eyed Mikah closely, "Well, well. A _Nuagenoir. _The forgotten race, forsaken by their own God." He'd stepped closer again, and his face held a confrontational expression. Mikah stayed where he was, still and waiting.

Nuagenoir. Dark Cloud. It was a derogatory name given to the race spawned from Fidèles and Furyan blood. There weren't many left, but the few that were had become known in the Vivant Galaxy as the best warriors and protectors they had. Fidèles magic with Furyan strength made for a combination that was very difficult to injure, much less kill. The Furyans had once tried to take Gloria by force, during such a time many of their women were raped and force bonded, giving birth. The Fidèles hated the Furyans for it. The seed was scorned and shunned, until they proved useful. This Lord Marshall knew more about their planet, their galaxy, than she was comfortable with.

The two messengers stepped out from where they'd gone to stand near the citizens. They moved to stand with the Necromongers, and they blended into the crowd so well that Laramie knew they weren't from New Mecca at all. They'd been sent to lead her here, to lead her people here for slaughter. "Lord Marshall," came the voice of a man. He had a strange spine shaped mechanism on his head. His eyes held a hint of desperation, as if he was trying to convince himself of something. The Lord Marshall turned to him. "Perhaps…they can be of use. A little extra persuasion for the queen's consent and cooperation."

The Lord Marshall turned back to Laramie, ignoring Mikah this time, like he wasn't there. His face confused her so she focused on his eyes. They switched between humored, triumphant, and hesitant. Finally, he nodded and his face spread into a smile that held ill intent behind it. "Very well," he said, "We keep the queen with us. Lock the others away."

He spun then, arms outstretched and addressed the citizens. "See? Not even the race that has the means to fight us can stop us. All who oppose will, eventually, be killed. And never see the Underverse. So I extend this last opportunity. Bow and be converted. Renounce your faiths…or die."

The portions of the crowd that hadn't been bowing slid slowly to their knees. They all had such fear in their eyes that it made Laramie's stomach turn. In their face she saw the faces of her people. Would they try and do the same on Gloria? And then, at the back of the bowing crowd, a figure caught her eye. Draped in brown and still standing. One of the armored men went to the figure and told them to bow. That got rid of any thought that the figure was with them.

Laramie stepped around Mikah and looked up at the figure, closer now. Her skin crawled so much it felt like it would drip from her body. Her breaths had stopped and she hadn't noticed. Five years. Five years and there he was. He was facing away from her, face hidden by a hood, but she still felt him. "I bow to no man," came that voice.

Riddick pulled the hood from his head and the armored man removed his helmet. He looked him in the eyes, even though they were hidden behind those goggles. "He's not a man," he said, "He's the holy half-dead who's seen the Underverse."

"Look I'm not with everyone here," Riddick said and pointed over the armored man's shoulder, "But I will take a piece of him."

The armored man followed Riddick's gaze to another soldier, wielding two odd shaped weapons. He shifted his weapons in his hands and climbed the steps towards them. The armored man turned back to look at Riddick. "A piece you will have."

He stepped out of the way and the man with the strange weapons stepped closer to Riddick. Shazza had moved from behind the guards to stand, staring, at Riddick. The man raised the weapons over each shoulder and went into an offensive stance. He left his body open and unprotected. He was depending on the armor to be impenetrable. It may have worked with someone else, someone easily shaken by his large stature and his weapons. But with Riddick, it was just a stupid mistake.

He swung one of the weapons at Riddick's torso and Riddick lunged back, throwing off the brown cloak. The man swung again and Riddick ducked to the side. He swung with the other hand and Riddick ducked under it. He ripped a blade out of the soldier's back that Laramie hadn't noticed and, as the man spun to swing at him again, Riddick drove the blade into the his torso once. He yanked it out and plunged it in again, and again for extra measure. The armored man fell backwards and tumbled, motionless, down the stairs, sending citizen scurrying to get out of the way. Laramie didn't pay much mind to the falling body. She was staring into the dark surface of those goggle lenses. His eyes were hidden but she knew he was looking at her. His gaze flicked to Mikah and back to her, and his head tilted slightly. Mikah had moved to stand beside her now, sword still out and the gaze he shot at Riddick was not friendly at all.

She knew Mikah disliked Riddick, but until that moment she hadn't understood the full extent of it. They were going to end up fighting, and having seen them both in action, she wasn't sure who would win, but she'd lose someone either way.

Riddick turned and moved to walk away. "Stop him," the Lord Marshall called, and she'd forgotten he was even there. He was hurrying toward the body and he stooped down to pull the blade back out. Blade in hand, he strode up the stairs towards Riddick. "Irgun," he said, "One of my best."

Riddick glanced at the body and back at the Lord Marshall, "If you say so."

There was a long pause of silence and the Lord Marshall brought the blade up between them, balanced on one hand. "What do you think of this blade," he asked.

Riddick snatched the blade from his hand and twirled it, expertly, in his own, before handing it back, hilt first. "I think it's a half gram heavy on the back end," he replied.

"In our faith," the Lord Marshal began, "You keep what you kill." He put his hand around Riddick's hand and the knife, as if to push it back towards him, but he held on. Tension burned between the two of them. "Are you familiar to me?" Riddick didn't answer him, just strained against some force she couldn't see exerted. "Have we met on some distant field?" The last was asked with malice.

"You'd think I'd remember," Riddick said.

"You'd think I would too," the Lord Marshall stared at him for a moment. "Take him before the Quasi-Deads." The soldiers closed in around him and Mikah touched Laramie's arm. She turned to look at him. "Bring the Queen along," he continued, "Perhaps we can…talk some sense into her."

Three of the soldiers grabbed Laramie and tore her away from Mikah. Mikah frowned at them, and his eyes bled to black. His image fuzzed as he struck out in one short blur of speed. The armored men ran out of luck in the face of that blow. He beheaded two of them, slit the throat of a third, and was stalking in on the others, a predatory look in his eyes. "Mikah," she said and he stopped but didn't look at her, "Its okay. I'll be fine, protect the others."

No more soldiers grabbed her. She moved up the stairs where a woman was talking with Riddick and the other armored men around him. "Zion no," came Shazza's voice, turning Laramie around. Zion was trying his best to shove past the remaining guards. His eyes were wide and desperate. She moved back down the steps and placed a hand on each side of her son's face, kissing his forehead. "Mommy will be fine," she whispered, "Stay with Mikah and Shazza. I'll be back, I promise."

She stood slowly from him and he turned his gaze from her to the nearest opposing guard. The glare he gave the man made him shift on his feet. The look on the child's face said that one day, when he had the skill and experience, he'd be capable of horrible things.

Laramie looked at her son one more time, just in case she had to break her promise, and turned to venture up the stairs. Riddick stood there with the strange woman, waiting on her. "Take the other's to the holding cages," said the armored man who'd taken off his helmet to talk to Riddick before. There was movement behind them but she couldn't look back at her son again, couldn't watch him be shooed away from her.

She stood at the top of the steps, back hunched as if she'd been hit, and looked at the ground until the sounds of movement stopped. She wasn't worried about them living, Mikah would carry out her orders at all costs. It was what lay ahead for _her_ that concerned Laramie. The only comforting thought that she had was that they might not kill her as long as they needed something from her.

Riddick looked down at her as they stepped back into the open, dusty air. She frowned up at him, nothing nice to say for the abandonment he'd dished out five years prior. "What," she asked, voice tired and breathy.

He lifted the goggles from his eyes and looked down on her with that glittering gaze. His eyebrow arched and his gaze fixed on her face. "Cute kid."


	6. Chapter 5

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Five

"Why the hell wouldn't you tell me that," Riddick swore at Laramie. His voice was hovering just below shouting level and threatening to push past that line. They'd stopped traffic and were holding up the entire group just inside of the main necromonger ship. The sound of the large doors shutting behind them made them both glance back for a moment.

"If you'd stuck around a little longer you could have found out when I did," she said. She turned and looking at the woman, who'd done her best to charm Riddick the whole way there. The look she gave the woman was not friendly and held an edge of anticipation. The woman's dark eyes widened and she turned to lead them to their destination. Laramie walked on as if the conversation was over, as if Riddick would leave it where it laid. Or at least she'd hoped he would. This was not the time for this argument.

"I had my reasons for leaving," his voice was softer, strained. As if something on him hurt.

"Well blame those reasons for you not knowing," she said, "You may as well blame yourself too. I know I do. Scurrying off in the dark of night like a common rodent."

"Pixy," he said, and his tone held a warning.

She stopped and turned abruptly to face him. If his reflexes hadn't been so good he would have ran into her. "Riddick," she said, eyes averted, "This conversation is over for now. I have more important things to do."

"Does he know about me," he asked, leaning down so that they were at eye level. "Does he even know who I am?"

"This is hardly the time for-" the woman began.

"Shut up," they interrupted in unison. She shut up but looked like she didn't enjoy it. Laramie pegged her for a rambler.

"No he doesn't," she said, "I didn't tell him about you because I thought I'd never see you again." He lifted his goggles again and his face was creased into a frown but his eyes held something more vulnerable that she knew only she was close enough to see. "You think I'm happy about it? You think I enjoy my son not playing with the other children because they mock him and call him 'the bastard prince'?"

"Ours," he growled, "_Our_ son."

"He'll be _ours_ the moment you put in as much love, care, support, and comfort for him as I have," she said, her head tilted and her eyes filled with an anger that was almost mocking, "You're four years behind, so you may want to get to work."

She turned and moved off, this time walking past the woman who scurried to try and take the lead again. Riddick stood and watched her walk away from him for a moment before he moved to follow. They slowed at the opening of what seemed to be and ever-stretching row of people. They were hung up by their arms and spikes shot into either side of their necks. Their eyes were wide and unfocused.

"Converts, receiving the mark of the necromongers," spoke the man with the spine on his head. "They learn how one pain can lessen another."

Doors opened up just ahead of them and they moved on to walk through them. It was an odd room. One decorated with brass statues resembling the necromonger soldiers and a few hanging skeletons that may or may not have been real. The only way to know for sure was to ask or touch them, and Laramie was not up for either.

The woman reached back and took Riddick's hand, leading him on to the center of the room. He brushed arms with Laramie on his way by and sent static crawling down her skin. She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugged herself, and stepped around the wall. Her eyes drifted down to search the fog that floated across the floor. It flowed over everything except for a raised platform in the middle of the room. The woman led Riddick onto the platform but didn't seem to want to step onto it with him. She had a bad feeling about this.

"There now," she spoke softly, "That is just…perfect." She walked on and a door on the opposite side of the room was opened for her. "The more you resist them," the woman spoke over her shoulder as she stepped out of the room, "The greater the damage will be." The door behind Laramie closed and when she turned to the noise she found the other guards gone too. Only she and Riddick stood in the room. She leaned down and fanned at the fog on the floor. She needed to know what she was standing on.

"A new one," someone whispered, "You brought us a new one." Laramie looked up at Riddick and had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Why had they left them in the room alone? What was it for?

"Riddick," she whispered. He turned to look at her and he had pulled the knife he'd used to kill the soldier. "Get off of the platfor-" She didn't get to finish. The floor beneath him glowed blue and he dropped the knife. She stepped along the wall and stopped where it stuck out from itself. Her eyes turned to glance at the protrusion and found a chamber. There were five around the room and she hadn't noticed a single one.

The fog flowed into the room towards the platform and Riddick. A buzzing sound flowed in with it and he fell to his hands and knees. Whatever it was, it was holding him down and tugging her towards the platform. Not good. "Get up," she said through clinched teeth. She grabbed on to the side of the chamber and held herself there.

"I can't," he replied and his voice was pained. His muscles rippled and contracted beneath the skin. Something cracked and popped as if bones were breaking.

The unseen voice whined and the woman from before spoke into the room. "Interesting, breeder."

"Making Entry," the voice whispered, and this time it sounded like multiple people talking at once, in unison. "This won't take long." Something in the chambers rolled down and she got a good look at the one closest to her. They were people, veiled and held in place by vines. Little bowls of dark liquid sat on either side of their heads. He tried to get up again but only unleashed a louder popping sound. He was going to kill himself trying to get away. "We've entered his neocortex. Ahhh. The Riddick."

"Regress," came the Lord Marshall's voice. Laramie took an involuntary step away from the wall and held on to the bound down person. They moved and breathed into her face. Its breath smelled like rotting things.

"Scanning fresh memories," another popping sound, and Laramie meant to tell him to stop struggling but was dragged along closer to the platform. "Thoughts of someone named Jack." He pounded a fist against the platform. Just the mention of Jack had set him off enough for him to move again. What was she missing? What had gone on with the others while she was on her way to New Mecca? And where were they now?

"Now we find thoughts of an elemental," they spoke again. The Elementals had come to him. She wondered if it would be tied in with the odd actions of the Shifters. "Furyans," they said, and the voices sounded distressed.

"Where does he come from," the Lord Marshall spoke from his hiding place, "Who are his people? These are the things I need to know."

"We find energy," the voices were louder now. They'd taken on a panicked tone and the bodies twisted and groaned beneath the cloth. They stank as if they were rotting on the inside and every breath they let out unleashed another wave of the scent. Laramie's legs buckled and she stumbled but held on to the body and its resting place. "We find _Furyan_ energy."

"He's Furyan," the voices were raising, almost yelling now, "Furyan…Furyan survivor." They twisted franticly now, as if something hurt. "Kill the Furyan! Kill the Riddick!" They repeated that last, each time more frantic, screaming, the glasses of liquid near their heads shattered and Laramie ducked away from the exploding glass.

They grew quiet and the Lord Marshall spoke again, "_Kill_ the Riddick."

Armored men hopped up from unseen places and began to dive down into the room, weapons ready. The blue light disappeared and Riddick stood up. Laramie stood staring at him and holding on to the chamber.

One of the men went to attack him but he had that knife again and stabbed the man hard enough to leave him suspended on the blade. He took the man's gun and shot two others. More jumped down and he shot all but one and the last he hooked on the feet, sending him flipping through the air, as he ran for one of the chambers, gun in hand. He glanced back at her and yelled, "Pixy."

She didn't need to be asked. She gathered her skirts up in her hands and sprinted for him, by the time she reached him he'd climbed onto the chamber, which, like the others, was retracting itself. He pulled her on and she found a firm grip so she wouldn't fall off the side. The man who'd taken off his helmet earlier to talk mobbed in with a host of other guards. He still hadn't put his helmet back on and almost paid dearly for it. Riddick shot at him but he ducked and the shot hit a soldier behind him.

By the time he turned to look at them again the chamber was folding them out of sight. "Find him," came the Lord Marshal's voice, distant now, "Whatever it takes, find him!"

As the chamber stopped moving, Riddick slid off of it and ran. She tried to follow but found herself snagged. "Wait," she called, and he turned back frowning.

"Let's go, pixy," he yelled.

"I'm stuck," she screamed, voice high with fear, "Give me your knife." He threw her the jagged knife and she sliced her skirts and ripped them away so that she could step out of them and was left in the shorts that se was suddenly so happy she'd worn underneath and her soft, black moccasins. He ran on and she caught up, tucking the knife into one of his wrist sheaths and taking hold of his hand. With the height difference, most of which was in the leg area, he'd leave her in the dust if she didn't hold on.

A few turns in the narrow corridor and he broke out of a door. She followed out and found herself in the open air again. They bound down another main road littered with still smoldering bits and pieces of house and, what looked like, ship remains. Out of the smoke rising from the debris behind them, dove a necromonger ship. It soared up just behind them and Riddick veered off to the side of the road, closer to the remains of buildings. The shape of the ship would only allow it to get so close then.

A blast gusted from behind them and the warm blaze of fire accompanied it. For a moment, Laramie thought they'd been shot at. But, as she turned wide eyes over her shoulder, she found the ship on fire and diving down behind them. It bit into the ground and skid before popping back up into the air. This time it flipped while it was airborne and Riddick stopped short as it flailed overhead, raining rocks and pebbles down on their backs.

It hit the ground again a short ways off in front of them, sending shock waves along the surface as it slid into a row of barely preserved buildings. They toppled like building blocks and the air grew still again. Silent, but for the sound of approaching footsteps.

Laramie turned to find five people approaching, four of them hooded and cloaked; the only one left uncovered was a woman. They all had guns. Riddick grabbed Laramie by both arms and moved her so she wasn't visible around his massive frame. He looked over his shoulder, goggles back in place. "Lemme guess," he said, "A _five_ man crew this time."

"Couple of things you coulda done better," came the animated voice. There was the brief rustling of cloth. "First," he began harshly, "Trash the locater beacon inside my ship, the one you jacked. And second, and this is really the more important part, dust my dick when you get the chance. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Riddick said. He turned to face them and kept Laramie behind his back, giving her a light shove away as if to say 'run'. But she had no place to run to. This planet was not familiar to her, and she had no idea where was safe. She stood behind him and he brought his hands out in front of his body, forearms parallel, palms facing up. "What took you so long?"

Footsteps got close but she couldn't see around him. Something dropped on the ground at his feet and there was a metallic sliding sound. "Let's go, big boy," this from the woman.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa wait," this from the first speaker. He came forward and stepped around Riddick to look down at Laramie. She wondered, briefly, if everybody was taller than she was. "Why, hello there…" He brought a scanner up and shone the laser across her face. It beeped wildly. "Laramie Shores. Oh no, I'm sorry, _Queen_ Laramie Shores. My, my. Quite the price on that cute little head of yours." He smiled at her and his face twisted so morbidly that she thought he would spit at her. "I'm sure we can find a nice little place to lock you up. Hell, for…" he glanced at the scanner, "Three mil. I'll swallow the fuckin key."

"Tombs," he said, "That bounty's void. The person who wanted her can't afford a fraction of that anymore. Let her leave and let's get this over with."

"Let her leave," he said, "No, no. You see, this bounty was reposted 10 hours ago. It's as fresh as a newborn's piss. And she's about as fucked as this planet is. It calls for her dead."

Somebody slid their arms around hers and under them to pull them back behind her back while another person put on restraints. The restraints slid off onto the ground. "These are too big, boss," another new voice.

The man Riddick had addressed as Tombs looked at her with a face that spread slowly into a different smile. She didn't like what she saw behind it. Not one bit. "Get me the titaniums," he purred.

"No," she screamed and it was rage filled. Titanium was the only substance that could not only wound a Fidèles, but also make them heal human slow. Just pressing the metal to their skin for a long enough period of time wounded them. It ate through like slow acid, and it burned just as bad if you pressed tight enough.

"Got 'em," the voice from before spoke and she felt the cold press of metal on her arm. She twisted violently in their arms. She kicked one leg up and caught Tombs in the ribcage, then brought the other one back to connect just below the knee of whoever was holding her. The knee popped and it was the woman who fell screaming and cursing.

She let go of Laramie and she sprinted down the road. Right about then, any place was safe as long as it was away from them. Arms caught her around the waist and lifted her from the ground. The woman was there when they turned to carry her back towards the others. She hauled back and punched Laramie in the side of her head. Dark spots exploded on her vision and her ears rang but she continued to twist in the arms that held her. They tightened and she drew in a deep breath. She screamed, wordless and wrathful. The scream rose in pitch until it was a constant, ear-rattling shriek. She sent them scrambling to cover their ears. The arms didn't let go and Tombs rushed over to hit her in the forehead with the butt of his gun. Darkness closed in and she was out for the count.

They all stood, looking between each other, and even Riddick joined the looking game. It was the breathless voice of Tombs that broke the silence. "Holy shit."


	7. Chapter 6

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Six

Laramie woke on the floor of a ship. They'd tucked her away into a small nook that was well lit. Both her wrists were chained to the floor on either side of her and, judging by the dull burning, the restraints were titanium based. Those bastards. Her hair fell like a curling curtain over her shoulders and stuck to her face. There was a cloth tied across her mouth to gag her. She shifted to sit, cross legged, on the floor and leaned to bring her face down to her chained hand. She tore the cloth away from her mouth and shook her hair out of her face as she sat back up.

She could see now but all that was in her view was Riddick, chained in a seat, his arms out to the side. He was watching her, goggles atop his head. "I'd ask for a little help," she whispered, "But it looks like we're both in bad positions."

He nodded and then dipped his head towards her wrists. "Do they hurt," he asked.

"They just burn some, for now," she whispered. "Where are they?"

"Asleep," he said.

She nodded and curled into a ball, knees tucked to her chest. She rested her cheek against her bare knee. She was wearing dark blue shorts and they left most of her legs bare. The moccasins were gone from her feet and they were left to curl on the cold floor. He kept looking at her, observantly. "I'm sorry," she said.

He frowned. "For?"

"For yelling," she said, "It wasn't nice and I wasn't being very understand-"

"You used to be much better at being stubborn than that," he said, "Don't give me an apology for showing me you still have that fire in you. Its one of the things I like most." He smiled and she knew he was gonna say something she didn't like. "Took me back, you yelling at me like that. I could have stripped you down right then."

"Stop it," she said, angry but the extra color that crawled into her cheeks took the edge off of the anger. Hard to be authoritative when someone's making you blush. A feeling, heat, rushed through her body from head to toe and made the most intimate parts of her tighten. "Riddick," she said, sharp and warning.

She'd learned that he could do that the night they'd bonded bodies. She'd been yelling at him for breaking a man's arm because he asked permission to court her. _"I told you,"_ he'd said, _"I don't share what's mine."_ She'd given him the ole 'You don't own me' argument, and he'd sent heat rushing through her. The only good side was that she could do it back. But she'd tried that then and they hadn't been able to stop themselves. She wasn't going to play that game in their position.

"You should've run," he said.

"And gone where," she asked, leaning her head against the cool metal wall. "Necromongers after me, bounty hunters after me, Shifters after me. Everybody seems to want my head."

"Guess you weren't so much better off without me after all," he said low, as if he didn't entirely want her to hear.

She turned her pale gaze to him, "Why would I be better off without y-"

"Shifter huh," he cut in. "Trying to kill you?"

She looked at him for a long moment. She knew him enough to know that he took a sharp turn from anything that involved him dealing with emotions. "Yeah," she whispered.

"They come dressed as me," he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Who kills them," he asked, slowly.

She opened her mouth to answer and realized where it was going to lead. "Mikah does-nice shirt, by the way," she said, trying to change the subject, "It really makes your eyes shine."

"Don't bullshit me, pixy," he spat, "I _told_ you I don't like sharing what's mine. I meant every word." His hands flexed into fists. "Have you been with him?"

"No," she said, "But if I had it wouldn't be your business."

"You still don't get it," he said, "You are my business. I told you before I left that I don't share. I showed you that I meant what I said. Now did you fuck him or not? Need to know who all goes on the killing list."

"Mikah's not like others," she said, "He'd give you a run for your money."

"A challenge," he purred, "I'll put him near the top of the list."

"Riddick," she said, "We haven't done any bonding. He only goes as far as I permit and, so far, it hasn't included much more than a kiss on the hand."

"Kiss on the hand," he mumbled. The undertone of his voice made her frown.

"Mikah is a very nice guy," she said, "He means well."

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled. She wrapped the chords of the restraints around her hands and pulled them as far as they would go, peering around the wall. She couldn't see anybody else. He grunted. "Mikah," he said it with a hint of disgust.

"Oh stop it," she whispered, "You guys may even be friends before this is over." He grunted again and she shook her head. False hope never hurt anybody…did it?

She thought back to her son, in whatever holding cell they had him in. Mikah would keep him safe, but she couldn't help but feel concern for her child. "What's he like," Riddick asked.

Laramie opened her mouth to answer but was cut off. "Alright, alright, cut the shit," Tombs yelled, sitting u from his sleeping place, "Can't even get a good sleep cycle in without you two blabbering." He stomped to the pilot seat and began fiddling with the control board.

"Who are they," she mouthed to Riddick.

"Mercs," he said aloud, "Amateurs."

"Fuck you," Tombs spat from up front. Laramie twisted in the restraints. The burn was intensifying and the skin beneath it was becoming raw. Her hands were sore by the time she gave up on it.

"It burns," she whispered, a hint of whimper in her voice.

"Almost there," Riddick said. He left it at that. She turned to press her forehead against the wall and tried focusing on other things. The burning sharpened and flared across her arms. Her breaths became shallow and labored. The others woke up and the sounds of movement filled the ship. They were fiddling with things up front.

"Destination Reached," came the robotic voice. The pain was scrambling her sense of time because those few minutes had somehow felt like hours. "Unlocking Manual Controls."

"All right," this from the woman, "I make 700 degrees on the day side, 300 below on the night side."

"Let's not get caught in the sun," a voice that she didn't remember.

"If I owned this place and hell," Tombs said, "I'd rent this place out and live in hell."

"Blue angle," said the robotic voice of the ship, "Good."

"Stand by," said the woman.

"Pixy," Riddick whispered, drawing her hazy gaze to him. "Hold on to something…tight." She nodded and crawled over to hook her arms around his lower leg, resting her cheek on his knee. The scent of her skin burning was soft and faint, but it was there. The pain shouldn't have been increasing this fast and she wondered if she'd been out longer than she thought or if there was something different about the titanium in the restraints. Either way, it was bad enough for her to feel the gentle beginnings of shock.

"Plotted course," said the ship, "Good."

"Hit it," shouted the woman and the ship took a very sharp and rocky dive downward. Laramie slid so that she was pressed to the wall with Riddick's leg just out of reach.

"Angle of approach…. not good," the ship warned. There were hollers of adrenaline from the passengers.

"Look ma," someone shouted, "No hands!"

"Party poppers," screamed one of the unfamiliar voices. The ship jerked sharply and scraped along the ground as it landed. There was another jump when it came to a complete stop, but all was well.

"I think I shit myself," a breathy decree from one of the unseen passengers.

"Skittish, Tombs," Riddick said, "Very Skittish."

Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor, growing closer and closer. An axe bit into the ground just next to her hand and cut the chords on the restraint. It repeated the action on the other side. Her hands were free but the titanium was still burning its way through her flesh. She screamed and somebody grunted painfully. "I thought I told you to gag that bitch," Tombs yelled.

"I did," said a man as he kneeled down enough for her to see him. He was chubby with a lot of hair on his face, not too different from Tombs, and he smelled weird. He reached over her for something while arms grabbed her and lifted her to a sitting position. She flopped weakly in the arms and stopped screaming, cut short by an exasperated sound. Her hair had begun to cling to her face where it was slick with sweat.

They hauled her up and the chubby man draped her over his shoulder. The burning was pitiless, not a moment of relief in between waves. She trembled where he held her and, if she'd had anything in her stomach; it would have been creeping back up. She kicked him wherever her foot would reach and he slapped her across the butt. "Cut it out," he said, "Or daddy'll give ya a spankin." He chuckled at the last but nobody else laughed with him.

He hauled her around and stopped at the top of what she could see was a staircase. There were the footsteps of others coming closer and then she was staring down at Riddick's shackled ankles and a half circle of feet around him. Doors opened at the bottom of the staircase and she watched them all move down in synchronization. The man carrying her took her through last and squeezed them past the others, along a wall of stone.

Laramie'd gotten the idea of reaching for a rock and caving his head in but he tossed her into the back of some kind of sled. She stared up at him with angry eyes and he smirked at her. They slammed Riddick down next to her and chained him. "Shouldn't we secure her," this from the woman, "She's kinda small, she may slide off"

She chuckled and it was a sound so harsh that it made Riddick look at her from behind those goggles. "You've strapped, what amounts to, solid acid around my wrists and left it on so it could burn on through," she began, "And _now_ you take pity on me? Don't bother."

"Oh please, your majesty," Tombs chuckled, "Forgive us. Have mercy on us poor peasants." He scoffed and climbed into the sled in front. She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath as the others boarded the small craft.

Something tapped the side of her head and she turned to see that it was Riddick's elbow. He nodded at it and turned to stare at the ceiling. She gripped his bound arm with both her hands and curled away from the edge of the sled. The chubby man climbed in and sat on top of them both. "Don't worry, bite size," he said, "I'll weigh ya down nice and sturdy." He ground his butt into them and cackled.

The sled staggered forward and began to glide along with a soft whooshing sound. She closed her eyes against the passing light overhead and twisted her hands restlessly against Riddick's arm. His muscles twitched, a quick flex to get her attention. She glanced up at him and he shook his head slowly. She stopped wringing her hands. Whatever he was planning she must have been distracting him with her fidgeting. She closed her eyes again and did her best to keep still and ignore some of the deep aching.

She flinched at sudden movement and opened her eyes again. Riddick had lifted himself off of the sled, arching his body, and boosted the chubby man up. The chubby man's head smashed into a light and he flew off of the sled behind them. "Four way split," Tomb's voice echoed. Part of her was glad to see him gone but another part knew that she'd needed the extra weight. She arched her body back and against the raised side of the sled, trying to wedge herself there so she wouldn't be propelled off the back of it.

She didn't have to hold it for long. The sled wrenched to a stop. The sound of the others unfastening themselves from their seats rose in a soft, clanging chorus. "29.4 kilometers," Riddick whispered.

Laramie frowned up at him and he looked down at her. She twisted slightly. The metal sled had grown hot where her feet touched it and she missed her shoes dearly in that moment. "What'd they do with my shoes," she whispered before being yanked from the sled by gloved hands. It was another of the men she hadn't had the chance to fully see yet. He had her by the hair and was shoving her towards two doors when they opened and two men stepped through.

"So," one of them said, "This is Riddick." He pronounced his name weird and spat immediately after saying it, as if it left a bad taste. The pain in her arms had spread far enough to make her face hot. She swayed in the man's grip and the spitting man looked at her. The man yanked her hair and bared her face to the dim lights so he could see her clearly. She watched his face light up with money lust; watched the dollar signs shimmer in his glossy eyes. She was beginning to realize that her new reputation was really preceding her.


	8. Chapter 7

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Seven

Laramie's head hung as she watched Riddick twist his way back up the line. They'd hung her by her wrists to lower her into the pit. The titaniums were still locked on her wrists and the skin beneath it was one large, greenish blister. They'd lowered her down first but because there was no arguing over whether or not to keep her. He'd hung down about four feet above her, out of arm's reach for both of them. Her feet swung just off of the ground where they stopped her and something told her they'd done it on purpose.

Movement caught her eye and there was a man running up on her. He had a wrench in his hand and was hauling back to hit her with it. Riddick spiraled down past her and broke free of his chains, landing on the ground and heading for the would-be attacker.

She didn't watch the carnage this time. She swung back and forth, bringing her legs up and flipping herself so that she was half-standing on the rope. She hooked her feet into the new restraints and pushed as hard as she could, straightening herself and pressing her body weight on the chains. Her body had stretched until an almost full standing position before the chains snapped and she fell to the ground in the middle of the fighting she hadn't been paying attention to.

Riddick was dishing out one-sided blows on a man who didn't seem to want to fall. He was too busy to see the man creeping up behind him. The first man had dropped his wrench and Laramie bent down to pick it up. She gripped it with both hands and, as the man closed in on Riddick's back, she clocked him under the chin. He went airborne with the force of the hit and landed in a heap nearby. Riddick turned to look at her but Laramie had already turned to fight off the three that were closing in on her. She caught one of them in the temple so hard that the one side of his head exploded into a red mess. She was loosing her control and some of the strength and agility of the Fidèles was seeping through. Her body was a little blur of force and violence. When had she learned to do that and why hadn't she done it sooner?

There was the sound of chains rattling and then someone made a pitiful, pained sound. The chains rattled again and the fighting ended. Laramie stopped in mid motion, ready to crack open another face, and turned to the sound. The chain was creeping along the ground away from a man who lay very limp. "There are inmates," came the clear voice, "And there are convicts. A convict has a certain code…and he knows to show a certain respect." The owner of the voice stepped forward with one man behind him on each side. "An inmate, on the other hand, pulls the pin on his fellow man. Does the guards' work for them…Brings shame…" he kicked a man in the face who was down already "To the game…so which are you gonna be?"

"Me," Riddick said, voice growing closer, "I'm just passing through."

"Welcome to crematoria."

Riddick placed a hand on Laramie's lower back. She shivered and stepped away from him, looking up into his eyes. Her hair had fallen loose and fell in its wild, foaming curls over her shoulders and in her face. Her eyes swirled between two shades of rain cloud gray. One was light and airy, the other was dark and ominous. "I need to get the restraints off," she whispered, a thin line of someone else's blood trailing down her cheek, "The pain is becoming too much."

"I'm gonna go take care of something," he whispered, "Not that I owe you an explanation." She glared at him, gaze veiled by the hair and turned to walk away before he did. She turned back in time to miss him looking her over in a manner that she would have called inappropriate. But she saw him trudging off behind the chain that had drug along the ground.

The moment he slipped out of sight all eyes turned to her. Angry eyes. Hungry eyes. She didn't like the look in any of them. There were no illusions in her mind about how she appeared. Small, child-like. Even having just bludgeoned a small group of men, some of who lay motionless, one lay twitching and groaning, she was fresh meat in a den of hungry, rogue lions. Four of the sweaty, gritty men stepped through the crowd as she stepped away. Their paces matched hers like some feral dance between one predator and a slightly weaker predator. They stayed back, because the sight of the other men, still lying there, made them unsure which would be the victim.

The sound of water echoing caught her ears like soft music. She cast one last warning glare at the enclosing men and turned to follow the sound. Her feet ached against the hot, jagged rocks below and the humid air wasn't easy to breath, especially when she began the ascent of the stairs that coiled along the walls. There was a small cave-like space above her with mist rolling out of it. She'd have bet a lot that that was where the water was.

She jogged the rest of the way up the stairs on bare feet, stopping to pick up a small saw from a pile of tools. It looked like it'd get the job done, despite the rust. Sure enough, when she reached the opening of the passageway, the sound of water thundered from inside. She ducked into the cover of the small passage and let herself open up to the pain again as she stumbled through the mist, hand on the wall. It was blinding now that she paid attention to it again, and she wished she hadn't.

Deeper into the passage, the mist cleared and the water fell straight down from some unseen height in a steady stream. She sat against the wall next to it and, hesitantly, began to saw away at the titanium restraints. At first, her hand shook too badly but she steadied it out and made firmer, longer cuts. The first restraint snapped and she pried it off and began working on the second one.

The skin under the titanium, at first glance, just looked blistered. But when she got the second restraint off and ran the skin under the water, the 'blistered' flesh peeled off in long, thick strips, like peeling away swollen bandages. It left raw muscle exposed underneath and stung like there were little pieces of glass stuck in it. She ran it under the water and held it there until the pain began to fade. The pieces of blistered flesh flushed away in the water. As the water washed out the small particles of titanium and the pain faded, she hung her head and let herself come close to tears. She hated feeling helpless, being helpless. The thought of them placing the restraints on her had made her panicked and angry and careless. She could only blame herself and so she did.

A grunt made her flinch and stiffen up. She couldn't suck back the tears that rolled on the brim of her eyes, ready to spill over, but she stopped blinking in hopes that they'd dry up. The moist air only fed them and, as Riddick crouched beside her, they spilled over and rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the drying blood of the man she'd beaten. "No time for tears," he mumbled, "Not here, pixy. Stick with me as much as you can but don't let them see you cry or they'll tear you away and take advantage of your weakness."

She went to laugh but no sound came out. It took her two tries before her words would come. "Weak," she said, "Is one of the many things I am not. Naive, sometimes. Fragile, rarely, but it happens. Short, absolutely. But I am _not_ weak. I just felt weak for a while." She pulled her hands from the water and looked at them. Blood welled up on the surface and she stared at it as if staring past it all. Her gaze had gone to the distant place that her thoughts had teetered off to.

"Here," came a voice that seemed familiar. Laramie looked up to see a woman, tall and slender and oily. She was holding out a towel that must have been the cleanest thing in the place. Riddick took it with a grateful nod and ripped it in half. He took Laramie's wrists and tied one half of the towel around each one.

"How long will it take to heal," he asked.

"I washed away enough so it wouldn't eat through to my bone," she said, "But it's a titanium wound. It'll heal as slow as a human's wounds would."

"So," the woman said, leaning down, "You really are a queen now?"

Laramie looked up into her eyes and frowned. She wondered why the woman knew so much and then she saw it. The short-lived flicker in her eyes. Vulnerability, a second-guessing of herself, some fear that held her back from an edge. She'd seen that look before, but in younger eyes. "Jack," she whispered.

"Haven't gone by that name for a while," she answered, "Its Kyra now."

"Well, Kyra," she said, "Thank you." She went to push away from the wall but found herself suddenly tired. Riddick grabbed her by the arms and stood, raising her up with him. Her eyes crossed momentarily and then she looked at him again.

"We'll get you out of here," he said, "Someplace you can rest through the dog runs."

"Dogs runs," she asked, looking up at him as they passed out of the mist and into the humidity. She hadn't noticed how much cooler the air in the passage, near the water, had been. "What are dog runs?"

Riddick glanced at Kyra and she frowned at him. Laramie swayed and paced off without their guidance. She headed back down the steps to the first barred entry she came to. There was a small pile of cloth in the corner, must have been where Kyra'd gotten the towel. She slid down the wall, letting the pointed rocks slide along her back, and curled up on the floor. Riddick sat near her, his back to the adjacent wall. His thigh brushed against the top of her head.

Kyra crouched down to look at her and, through the haze of sleep, she could see the almost playful look in her eyes. It was the look a predator gave its prey when it felt like playing mind games before it ate. She rolled to look up at Riddick and a similar look played along his features, but the look was all for Kyra. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable sleeping around the two of them. She must have made some small movement as if she was about to sit up, and she was, because Riddick placed a hand on her chest and pushed her back down again. "Get some sleep," he growled, turning that gaze to her now, "You'll need the rest so your body heals the damage."

She glanced at Kyra again and now both of those predatory faces were all for her. She wondered if she looked like that when she had beaten the other two men. A pang of guilt for hurting them gripped her heart. It would fade; she couldn't just not defend herself against them. Lying there now, with sleep taking her, she neither liked, nor trusted the look on either of their faces. She was out of her element and into theirs. The fact that she couldn't guarantee herself that they wouldn't abandon her as she slept made her uneasy. She wouldn't let herself be totally helpless, but she knew she was the little fish in the room with two bears that were great at hiding their claws until it was time to strike. "Feeding time," shouted over an intercom was the last sound to reach her ears before the deep silence of sleep clogged them.


	9. Chapter 8

**[Warning: **Just thought it'd be wise to warn that this chapter does dip into the graphic side of things.**]**

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Eight

"Pixy," the harsh voice cut through her sleep like a sharpened knife. There'd been no dreams, just darkness. As she opened her eyes to frown up at Riddick, she had to blink sweat from them. There was a small draft from behind him, the opening into the main part of the cavernous prison. "Time to go."

"Go where," she asked as she sat up. The world spun for a moment, and when it stilled again it left her looking at her covered wrists. Blood had dried on the towels in reddish-brown splotches. She knew she'd have to rinse them to avoid infection. He dropped a pair of boots next to her. They were small and looked heavy.

"Put those on," he ignored her question, "We'll be running and you'll need something on your feet. Get some water, rinse those bandages, cool yourself off and get ready. I'm not slowing down for anybody once we get out there. Not even you."

"Where are we going," she asked him but he was already gone before she could finish. She stood with her hand on the wall for support and bent down to get the boots. Her trip to the small water source was hazy and slowed with the receding traces of sleep. She sat the boots on the water's edge and knelt next to them. She untied each of the towel halves and rinsed them in the water. The stains stayed but when the flaky feeling was gone from them, she laid them across the boots so she could rinse the wounds. The ache was gone but they stung when the water hit them. No blood welled up this time and the skin had begun to heal around the edges. It made her frown. The wounds were caused by titanium, they shouldn't have been healing that fast.

She leaned in and splashed the water along her arms and over her face; it cooled her down enough to stop the sweating. She dipped her head forward and let the water run over her hair, bringing it back dripping. The bandages were tied back into place before she began to braid it into the floor length tail that drug on the ground slightly behind her. She tugged on the boots, laced them up, and leaned against the side of the passage to give herself a few more minutes of the cool air. Her breaths were slow and calm, her muscles relaxed with the feeling of the cool mist sticking to her skin.

"Hurry up," Riddick spoke impatiently from the passage opening. His voice drew her eyes open again and she pushed away from the wall. She stooped to pick up the wrench she'd left behind when she'd gone to rest and tucked it into the side of a boot. It waggled within the small space it had with each step she took.

As she stepped back into the open space she spotted Riddick and a few others staring up at the small room from which they'd been lowered. She moved closer and stared with them in silence for a few moments. But as she opened her mouth to ask yet another question, a host of gunfire erupted in short pops and flashes from above. There was the undertone of yelling and things falling as well.

In the midst of it, a figure came sliding down from the rope that still hung from earlier. They'd made it about halfway down before they stopped, landing them right in front of Laramie and Riddick and close enough for her to see their face. It was Tombs, abandoning his team in whatever chaos lay above. His eyes landed on them and his face twisted with disgust. Laramie's mouth twitched as if she'd smile but the expression was left unfinished.

A blast echoed down from the room and all gunfire ended abruptly. It was silent, peaceful, and, if not for the man hanging in front of them, it was almost like it hadn't really happened. But there he hung, all eyes turning to him. His eyes were for Riddick only, and the disgusted look was seeping into one that was fearful, horrified. Some terrible realization reached. Riddick stepped back and bent himself into the mouth of a small passageway, one hand gripping each side of the opening. Tombs made a small, heated grunt.

He used the grip to propel himself forward and he ran and threw himself from the ledge, lunging at the rope. "Riddick," Tombs yelled, "Nooo!" Laramie's lips parted slightly in a surprised look as he smashed into Tombs and almost fell if it had not been for a single hand left clasping mercilessly at Tomb's vest. He used the hand to pull himself up so that he could look Tombs in the face.

"You shoulda taken the money, Tombs," he said, and began to climb. He stepped on Tomb's head on his way up. Laramie stood and watched until he'd vanished into the room above, wondering how she was going to follow. A man tapped her as he rushed past, jogging up the spiraling staircase. There were a few others in front of him and her gaze lifted to where the stairs led. There was a door, and she was betting it would take them wherever Riddick had gone to. She followed them as fast as she could, trying to make up the distance between her and the small group. She kept her feet moving and her breaths coming calm and slow as she moved. On the way up Kyra closed in beside her and they made the rest of the trip abreast.

Two barred doors lay open at the top. Laramie ushered Kyra through first and followed slowly. She wasn't tired but she wanted to keep it that way so she slowed her pace. The doors opened to a very short flight of stairs. They stretched up into a small, barred passageway that led into the room that'd hovered above. It was dark, except for the brief flashes of electrical sparks from ruined machines and the blue glow of rotating emergency lights.

When she finally stepped in, everybody had guns in hand. She was perfectly fine with her wrench for now. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger. "Don't bother," came Riddick's voice, "Guards ain't there." There was the sharp buckling sound of his restraints hitting the floor as he walked past them and into the room with its flashing lights. "They figured out the Necros are comin' for me. Plan was to clean the bank, ghost the mercs, and break wide through the tunnel. And then somebody got a lucky shot off with this rocket launcher here…" He slid the launcher along the floor with his foot. "…and took out the sled. Guards took off on foot but rigged the door so no one could follow."

Laramie turned over her shoulder at the sound of grunting. Tombs climbed up through the hole in the floor and looked around at his fallen comrades. "They'll take the one ship in the hanger," he continued, as if he didn't hear Tombs come up, "And leave everyone else here to die."

"How come you know all this shit," he gasped, some of the guns were pointed at him now, "You weren't even here."

Riddick answered without looking at him. "Because it was _my_ plan." They took Tombs beneath the arms and drug him off with Riddick in close tow. Laramie stood, looking down at a still figure that had caught her eye in the flashing lights. It was the woman from the ship, the one who'd traveled with Tombs. She was awake and looking up at Laramie with a defiant glint in her eyes. Riddick paused on his way out and looked at Laramie. "I left her alive," he said, "Because I knew you wanted your revenge. The others are dead and Tombs is mine." Laramie turned to Riddick and looked him in the eyes, her own eyes gone cold and blank. His breathing faltered momentarily as she reached up and slid the curved knife from its sheath along his hip. His lips twitched into a smile. "Enjoy," he growled and moved on after the others.

The woman chuckled at Laramie as she moved to stand in front of her. "Little girl," she breathed, "Put that knife down and go home to your mommy. This game's for grown ups." Laramie bent down and grabbed onto the woman's pant leg, right over her knee, and ripped it. The woman gasped but the look in her eyes remained defiant and mocking. Laramie smiled sweetly at her, a smile that left her eyes full of dark delights. She felt the woman's knee with her fingers and, when she found the spot, she shoved the curved knife into the woman's knee joint. It sawed through the tendon on entry.

She screamed, low and pained, but not nearly as loud as she was going to scream. Laramie angled the knife to wedge it between the kneecap and the thighbone. She applied pressure on it until she felt the two bones pop apart. The woman screamed again, louder, and shorter this time. It was a chopped sound; almost panicked. She was beginning to realize just how bad this was going to be. Laramie pulled out the knife and repeated the procedure on the other leg. The woman was breathing in short gasps, letting out small sounds with each one. Laramie leaned in to her and looked at her face as she struggled past the pain. "Don't," the woman said, but she didn't finish.

Laramie brought the knife up and gave the woman a quick, shallow stab to the front of the throat. It shredded her vocal cords and, this time, when she went to scream, it came out as a low, choppy whistling sound. The woman brought her hands up to hold the wound as Laramie grabbed her by her hair and drug her over to the hole in the floor. The woman was still making the whistling sound when Laramie made the first cut across her throat. It wasn't a deep cut, just enough to get the blood pumping and hurt. The blood came out in a slow stream and the woman was making sounds that probably would have been whimpers if the vocal chords hadn't been ruined. She brought the knife around for the second cut and kept cutting until the woman dangled, gurgling, in her hands. Her neck was almost completely severed, the top half hanging on by not much more than spine. Her blade scrapped against the hard edge of spine and she stopped. The woman's body began to shiver and convulse and the blood flow from the wound slowed. The blood had abandoned its red hue for one closer to pink.

Laramie's heart had gone gentle and calm in her chest, her breaths came slow through parted lips and she savored the slight taste of blood on the air. The convulsions stopped and she stood, bringing the almost decapitated corpse with her. She turned its face so that she could stare into the wide, dead eyes. Her heart skipped because, in that gaze, she remembered her mother's own corpse, left to rest on Hades. She remembered those dead eyes staring up at her for so long, until they'd gone brown and dried up with decay.

Another face slid into her view and she looked up to see Kyra staring at her, eyebrows raised in a question. Laramie turned over her shoulders to see the others gathered into the doorway. She let go of her grip of the corpse's hair and it slid boneless through the hole to fall into the depth below. Riddick was the one to come forward while the others stared at her like she'd sprouted an unsightly second head. He bent down and pressed their foreheads together so that they were eye to eye. "Give me the knife," he whispered, softer than he'd ever done.

She moved away to look down at the knife still grasped in her hand. In its bloody surface she caught her own reflection and found her face still set in its child-like lines but with a hint of something new, something callous. She brought the blade closer to her face, wanting a better look at her eyes in its bloody reflection, but Riddick's hand closed around hers and brought her gaze back up to him.

She pulled herself together and let go of the blade. "Sorry," she whispered, "I got it dirty." He stared at her for a long moment and wiped the blade on his shirt. As he slid it back into its sheath he leaned in and kissed her forehead. It was a simple gesture, one he'd given her before but only when she'd done something he had never expected her to do. It was like a small reward from a pleased teacher.

**[Author's Note: **I offer my sincerest apologies for my absence. Life has been busy and I haven't had much time for writing, but I got this one in and hope to get another chapter up within the next several days or less. I hope you enjoyed and I thank you for reading.**]**


	10. Chapter 9

**[Author's Note: **Sorry for the absence.**]**

Thicker Than Water

Chapter Nine

"20 mile buffer zone," one of the convicts said, "And 30 klicks to the hanger."

"30 klicks," another spoke, "Over that terrain?"

Laramie leaned in towards Riddick's side to get a good look out of the window and out onto what lay between them and the ship. Her breaths were still slow and the rich smell of blood still lingered slightly in her nostrils. He turned and glanced down at her, releasing a slight grunt. "What was that for," she whispered.

"Just thinking you should stay behind," he said, voice toned so that she knew his next comment would be an insult, "Those short legs won't be able to keep up. You'll fall behind and get caught in the sunlight. And pixies don't smell as good deep fried."

"Its moving in the right direction," this from the man who'd given them the 'convict and inmates' speech on entry. "We could make it." Riddick moved to half sit against a storage bin. "Stay behind the night….and ahead of the sun."

Riddick's head tilted, eyes still hidden behind those tinted lenses, "There's gonna be one speed…mine." He stood again and there was a shuffling among the others. Perhaps unease, perhaps preparations, but suddenly their guns were in more convenient positions for use. "If you can't keep up, don't step up. You'll just die." He said the last as he walked away and Laramie left it unacknowledged. The comment hadn't been for her.

She fell into tow a few paces behind him and let her breath seep out in a soft sigh. He stopped so fast that, even at the short distance, she almost slammed into the back of him. He glanced over his shoulder at his, not turning fully but enough for the gesture to be noticed, and smirked down at her. She sneered at him impersonally and he turned to continue his venture.

He slammed a button near the one door without a blue light flashing above it. It opened and a breeze blew in, cold but laced with electricity that promised heat to come. His strides almost immediately sped up and fell into a gliding run, not much of a transition between the two speeds. Laramie suddenly found herself falling behind in the ranks as the others moved past her. For a moment she thought that staying would be a better idea but she shook the thought away. She couldn't depend on any of them to come back for her and that would leave her stranded and away from her son.

Her paced quickened, breaths coming more and more ragged. The terrain smoothened itself out but occasional cracks in the ground opened onto boiling lava just below the surface. The air became humid and steam rose to meet the where they moved. She was gaining rank again and managed to fall back into place beside Kyra, just over Riddick's shoulder. She followed closely; every step, every leap, and where she couldn't stretch far enough, she improvised. He dipped down into a deep crevice that had formed a sort of maze and vanished into the dark steam, leaving them to follow blindly. They wove through and searched wildly for some glimpse but found none. "Riddick," Kyra called, and when no answer came, her voice came again, mournful this time, "Riddick."

A dark mass billowed from above and drew their eyes upward. Laramie had already begun to climb up to meet Riddick before he gestured the others. She pulled herself onto the ledge and took a brief moment to glance back, failing to notice that slight smile he gave her again. Pleased. She was exceeding his expectations. When she turned back, he'd darted off and she got on her feet to follow.

Heat prickled along her back where it hadn't been a moment before. The sun was catching up to them and this was a very bad thing. There was no more time for slowness. She kicked her pace up another notch, putting her just behind him, long braid slapping at her heels. It'd picked a wonderful time to stay obediently tied. The sound of footsteps closed in and she knew the others were catching up. He leapt from a short cliff and remained crouched for a moment, long enough for Laramie to breeze past him. She stopped, not knowing the way on her own.

He launched forward again and her eyes followed him as she fell into step again. Her gaze slipped past him and up at the enormous cloud of ash rising ahead of them. She didn't think to cover her mouth and so she got a breath full of ash as they entered the haze. Her lungs contracted and a cough rattled her chest, leaving her breath in again trying to make up for it. More ash this time and it was like drowning. She stumbled for a moment, gray spots dancing in her vision but she pressed onward. Riddick glanced back momentarily at her ash powdered face and kept moving.

His hand shot back, catching her by the bandaged wrist and he yanked her up to his side and drug her along and she coughed again, this one unleashing a wheezing sound. Sludge came up and she had enough time, as she spat it out, to see the trace of blood lingered in the mix. They ducked into a small, webbed structured and ran through it like a tunnel. By the time they got out of the other end, the world blurred around the edges. With each breath she was taking in more ash and the breaths were becoming harder to take.

They paused, so very briefly, and he ripped the towel from her wrist, pressing it to her mouth. He looked back at the others. "Keep moving ahead," he said, "I'll catch up, just keep moving, and fast."

They all nodded and ran on as he separated from the group. She kept the towel pressed over her nose and mouth. The coughing didn't stop but the breaths were less and less clouded. Gunshots rang out and bullet panged off of the rocks around them. Laramie ducked but kept moving and the others fell behind to indulge in the firefight. Just as well. Her wrench couldn't help her in that fight. The shots stopped but she couldn't tell if they'd just become too distant or not. She scrambled across a log over the red glow of lava beneath it and broke out of the other side of the ash cloud. The air wasn't the cleanest but she showed great appreciation for the lack of ash in it. She coughed and spit out a bit more sludge before stumbling on.

"Keep moving, pixy," came Riddick's voice, scaring her back into a run. She hadn't even heard his footsteps coming up. A large wall of rock rose up in front of them and as Riddick took the lead again, he showed no hesitation in beginning the climb. She followed where she could but found her paced slowed in this area. She couldn't follow exactly; unable to reach where he reached, so she had to take time to find her own ledges. The rocks grew warmer and warmer under her touch as she climbed and for a moment she stopped to rest.

She looked up in time to see Riddick pop up onto the top of the wall. Looking up that distance, as Kyra climbed past her, her breath caught. "Come on," Kyra breathed as she climbed past. Laramie shook her head softly and Kyra paused. "Come on."

Laramie's heart sank as she held fast to her ledges and looked into the once young eyes of Kyra. She couldn't cover the distance, not in time. The sunlight was climbing up the rocks around them and her limbs wouldn't go any further. "Just go," she whispered.

"Kyra," Riddick called. Kyra didn't answer. She simply reached a hand out to Laramie. Laramie shot a questioning look into Kyra's face but took the hand that was offered and climbed a bit further with the assistance. "Kyraa!"

"What," she snapped back.

"Get that ass movin'," he roared from above. They tried to speed up, to reach the top, and Laramie gained some height on Kyra, but the sunlit lit the rocks ablaze around them and they both ducked into caves. Laramie, between breaths, glanced further into her cage and noticed a light through the other end. She stepped toward it but the voice of Kyra pulled her back.

"Riddick," she called from just below, "Remember what I said, about not caring if I lived or die?" Laramie glanced back to the sunlight and when her eyes went to peer back into the depth of the cave, the light was gone. "You knew I was kidding, right?"

She could hear Riddick talking from above, and a few other voices, but it was too far up. "Pixy," he called, "Can you get to Kyra?"

"No," she called back, voice very raspy, "Its too hot, Riddick." She heard her voice, normal for a moment, and then she heard it echo, upwards to ears that weren't her own. He'd known she couldn't get to Kyra, but he'd wanted to hear her talk so he could judge their positions. Their bond was open and she knew he had rope. She knew his plan, and she knew he could only grab one. That one would be Kyra, so it was her responsibility to watch for him and catch the rope. He'd take care of the rest. "Understood," she called up to him.

She stepped to the edge of the cave and looked down at the fire dancing along the ground toward them. There would be one chance, quick, and she had the opportunity to save herself or doom herself. She fully intended to avoid the latter. She braced herself on the edge and let her eyes dart wildly, watching for Riddick. He flung off of the top and swung down, fast. She leapt out and reached for the rope. Her hand missed it, but it caught in the bend between her other outstretched arm and her chest. She slid down but had time to get a better grab and she did. They swung up over the top of the wall and into the shade provided by the ledge. She rolled until she hit the side of a boulder and only then looked to see if Kyra had made it.

She was sitting up and staring intently at Riddick's back. They were here; good. Laramie wasted no time in standing back up and continuing her run, not looking back. No footsteps followed but she was completely unconcerned even as she reached the point where there were only rocks to climb over and no room to run. She'd keep moving because going too far was better than not going far enough.

**[**Thanks for reading. Leave a review if you like.**]**


	11. Chapter 10

**[Author's Note: ** Again I apologize for the lengthy absence. Thank you for reading please leave a review and feel free to scold me.**]**]

Thicker Than Water

Chapter 10

She hadn't heard Riddick move up beside her, and truthfully, she hadn't been listening for it. "You shouldn't have brought the kid along to begin with," he said.

"Don't," she cut, never stopping to look at him, "Don't tell me what should or should not have been done with my child. " He wrapped a massive hand around her arm and yanked her to a stop, leaving her frowning up at him. He stared into her face from behind the glassy surface of the goggles. The footsteps of the others were louder, harder to tune out, as they hurried to catch up with the two.

"This isn't the time," this from one of the men who'd managed to survive. "We're ahead of the sun but not by much."

"Keep moving," Riddick instructed, his gaze never leaving her face. For a long pause there was no movement in response and the others just stood staring between the two, but once it passed they moved on quickly. Laramie gazed off after them and at what lay ahead. The rocks got steep and would require some climbing. "You need to clear your head up. If you go into this frantic and panicking, they'll catch you off guard at some point." She sighed and pulled against his grip but he only tightened it enough to bring her gaze back to him. He raised the goggles and gave her a stern, chilling expression, eyes unwavering, before he let her go.

She stepped away from him backwards, eyes lingering on his face for a few paces. Her own expression was cold and flat, withholding the reaction he'd been looking for. She turned to watch where she was going but took his advice and tried to clear her head. As much as she hated it, he had been right. She needed to focus on the task at hand because any mistakes from here on could be fatal.

As she began the climb she found it easy to pass over the terrain. She glided up the slopes on graceful hands and feet, sparing a single glance at Riddick who kept a similar pace beside her. He'd slid the goggles back into place and kept his face turned forward. They were near the top and the others had paused to look at whatever was visible over the crest. "There it is," she heard from one of the men as they caught up to the group. They made a move as if to keep climbing but Riddick stopped them.

"Listen," he said. Through the silence they could hear a distant hum and the soft sound of movement far off. Riddick and Kyra looked at each other but Laramie moved forward ahead of them, missing the queue. Necromongers. A ship was lifting off of the ground, explaining the hum, and the sound of movement had been the dozen or so necromonger soldiers parading over the terrain. They were searching intently, no doubt for them. From where they'd perched to look down on them they were perfectly in view if the soldiers just so happened to look up. Reluctantly, Laramie slid back out of sight and the others did the same.

"Lemme guess," Kyra gasped, "Necros."

"And a whole lot of Necro fire power," Riddick replied. The others shifted a bit, the same look of disappointment playing on each of their faces.

"Shit," Kyra swore, "I _hate_ not being the bad guys."

Laramie's ears twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps, soft and distant, but still audible. "They're coming," she said, and even to her ears her voice sounded shaken. The others immediately went into motion, moving their weapons to more accessible spots, stretching, and Kyra bound her hair up in a bun on the back of her head.

"Pixy," he murmured, drawing her gaze to him, "Calm yourself." Her eyes had gone wide, lips parted to take in quick shallow breaths. A mixture of fear and trembling anticipation swirled in her stomach. He leaned his face closer to hers, close enough for him to hear the small thumping of her pulse in her temple. "Calm." And he repeated it over and over until her face relaxed and her pulse slowed and softened. When her body had fallen into a deep serenity she nodded. He'd done that to her once before, just before they'd gone to present the evidence of her heritage to the courts. It was a stern but caring gesture and very effective.

"Figure we got three minutes," this from Kyra, "Before the sun hits us again and burns out this whole valley."

"Wait," Riddick said.

"We gonna do this or not," Kyra asked, pulling out a weapon.

"Just…wait," he repeated. Laramie quieted herself, drowning out the sounds around her, other than the growing footsteps. Every second they got louder and louder until they were close enough. It was time for action now. "Remember that favorite game of yours," he spoke.

"Who's the better killer," Kyra completed the thought for him.

"Let's play it," he chimed in that rumbling baritone, letting an old familiar grin spread across his face. He and Kyra stared at each other for a moment before he drew the curved blade. He turned and made an advance towards the incoming soldiers and everyone sprang up to follow him, all ready and, with the exception of Laramie, armed.

"Come on," Kyra said as she rushed past and Laramie let everyone go ahead of her. One last flash of her son's face crossed her mind before as she moved forward behind the others. Riddick leaped off of the crest and the sounds of pain began immediately, increasing each time one of them jumped after him. She stood on top of the rocks, looking down on the fight. She didn't seem to be needed but she refused to let herself be rendered totally useless.

Laramie leapt out and landed on a soldier's back. He struggled, flailing around wildly trying to get her off of him as shots fired out around them and shouting sounded. She reached around and took a firm grip of his chin and twisted her body putting them back to back. She pulled, quick and short, and broke the soldier's neck at an angle so sharp that it left his face turned backwards. She let him go and landed on the ground with firmly planted feet, gaze raised in time to see a shot slam into Riddick and the soldier he was holding and send them both flying up and out of view. Her mouth fell open and she looked to find the man who'd shot them staring straight at her. He held out a hand but she ran off in the direction that Riddick flew in.

She found him, just over the next incline of rocks, stretched out on a ship landing strip. As she began to descend, she spotted another group of soldiers approaching him from the inside of what looked to be a man made cave. As she stilled herself in hopes that they wouldn't see her, she came to the pointless realization that this was where they'd landed with the mercenaries. Riddick moved where he lay on the ground and struggled to get up through the pain. A few of the soldiers readied their weapons, preparing to strike at him. Kyra hurried past her on the rocks and sprinted across the landing strip, cutting down two of the soldiers in her path.

She stopped on the other side and turned back to look at Riddick. Her lips were moving but from where Laramie was she couldn't hear her words. Whatever was said was brief and Kyra ran immediately after, closely followed by two soldiers. Laramie went to turn her gaze back to Riddick but the sudden sensation of hands on her grabbed her attention. Two soldiers took hold of her, on either side and she immediately struggled, kicking wildly at their legs, but it was useless against their armor. They carried her out onto the landing strip and towards Riddick. "Shhh," one of them spoke, close enough for her to feels his cold breath on her skin, "The show's about to start, wouldn't want any interruptions."

She shook her head violently and let out a disgusted grunt. She was always the one rendered helpless. "So," came the voice drawing her eyes back to the scene unfolding before her, "You _can_ kneel." The man who'd shot Riddick was there now, armed and creeping closer. His steps slowed and he raised his firearms slowly, aiming them carefully at Riddick. Riddick sat back on his knees , arms spread and began to shake violently. A frown settled on her face as she watched. A blue glow crept along his skin and the shaking only got worse but just as she prepared to call out for him a blast of blue energy exploded off of him, knocking all of the soldiers to the ground, including the two that had been holding her.

Riddick fell back from the force of it and Laramie, now freed, ran to him, shaking him vigorously. "Get up," she gasped, "Come on….Riddick." The few who could stand stumbled up the other side of the crest, shying away as intense light filled the landing strip. The sun had caught up with them. She looked up at the light, eyes adjusting instead of burning. Sunrays reached out to them like flaming fingers, beckoning them into a death that held no promises. She looked back down at Riddick's still form and the steam rising off of him where his sweat burned. The sight of him brought a realization that she'd been denying since she'd seen him again in New Mecca.

Laramie stood, her long black curl glistening unnaturally in the light. She bent over Riddick and hooked her arms under his as best she could. If they burned they would burn together but until then she planned to do her best to prevent that. She drug him, slow and straining but he moved about an inch each time she pulled him. Every second that went by the sun got more and more intense until it did begin to burn her, but she kept pulling him, even as the bodies of dead and wounded soldiers smoked on the ground around them. The bond between them began to make her weak. He was going to die soon if she didn't hurry and if he died, she would too. Tears welled up in her eyes and burned dry before they made their way down her cheeks.

A hand caught her shoulder and yanked her away from him. She spun away and turned back to lay eyes on the one who'd pulled her, ready to fight if need be. One of the necromonger men stood and looked at her. He'd been one speaking in New Mecca. He pointed behind her and yelled, "Go!" She looked to where he'd pointed and there was the cave where no sunlight reached. She turned back to see him taking a hold of Riddick and dragging him in the same direction. He was doing much better than she'd been doing. She hurried and ducked into the cave, turning to watch intently as he drug Riddick into the shade. She knelt on the ground next to him, staring down into his face as her vision faded black around the edges. Had they been too late? Was this it? Her last conscious thought was a blur of panic at the possibility that it had all been in vain. She'd failed her people and, most importantly, her son.


	12. Chapter 11

[**Warning!: **There is a little bit of adult material in this chapter. Just thought you should know. No kiddies allowed on this one.]

Thicker Than Water

Chapter 11

Laramie was no longer floating in a soft darkness filled with the voices of those she loved. She could feel again. Her fingers, hands, legs, arms, though tingling, were back in her grasp. And slowly, she could begin to hear again and the voice that came to her was one that she was happy to hear. "Pixy."

Her eyes opened slowly, still heavy. Riddick leaned over her, his goggles pushed up to leave his eyes bearing down into hers with something so raw in them. "I thought," he murmured softly but he gained composure, wrinkled his face with those cold lines. "Get up," he shot, "No nap time in the real world, pixy."

She frowned slightly at him as he stood and offered her a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet and into his body as if she was weightless. They looked at each other for a moment, neither one wanting to admit anything out loud. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, resting there for a moment. They both closed their eyes and let out a sigh. All pride aside, they'd almost lost each other. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He ran a hand along her waist as if to pull her closer but let it drop away instead. She wasn't dejected by the gesture. Seeing him let down his guard was a rare thing that only she had been able to truly witness. She knew by now how to decode his steely facade. "You should be," he said, stepping away from her, "Hide my son from me. I could kill you….you know this." She rolled her eyes, turning to look out on the landing strip and was glad to find it dark again.

"How much time," she asked, brushing the ash off of her clothes. She'd been cleaner, but, thinking back to Hades, she'd been filthier too.

"Sun just went down," he replied. They didn't have long before the full night came and then they'd freeze to death. Time was, once again, of the essence. They needed to go.

A loud metallic clunk rang out and she turned abruptly to the sound. There stood the same ship they'd been brought in on. Riddick had made his way up the entrance ramp and already settled into the pilot's seat with a look on his face as if he'd leave her. She hurried, in case he wasn't bluffing, and got onto the ship. He flipped the co-pilot chair around for her before she'd even made it all the way up the ramp. She took the seat and buckled in as the entrance ramp clamped closed behind them. Seemed like whenever they left a planet it was in a hurry. She wondered if this was how he'd always lived. Running, not having anyplace safe to go, no place familiar, no home.

He turned to her again. "You love me, pixy," he asked in that cold baritone of his.

The tone of voice didn't match the question which carried an extra bit of shock with it. It was a vulnerable question and one that she'd never expected to hear from him again. She frowned at him for a moment, "Yes," she uttered softly.

"Why give an honest answer," he asked. He'd stopped to look at her at this point. The loud crackle of ice forming on the rocks in the distance was soft background noise.

"Because," she sighed, "You may be gone before I get the chance to answer again." He stared at her for a long moment before bringing his free hand up and sliding his goggles back into place. He booted the systems and fastened his seatbelt. She'd started to strap herself in too when he propelled the ship forward. The force pushed her back against the seat and made her hands fumble with the straps.

"Interesting," was his only reply. The ship rolled out onto the landing strip steadily gaining enough speed to lift off of the ground and thrust them into the turbulent air. She watched as the planet fell away from them, leaving them staring into space. She briefly recalled the first time she'd seen that sight, as they flew off of Hades. He locked the lever and started steering before he spoke again. "When we get there, go for the kid. And get the tall one, tell him to protect you or I'll kill him."

"I'm not sure you could kill Mikah," she replied, "You two are nicely matched but I'm sure he'll protect me without needing to be asked…or threatened."

He made a short grunting sound, "Yeah, yeah, just make sure you remember I don't share. Never have, never will."

"Oh, just fly the damn ship," she retorted.

He set the ship on its course and switched it over into auto pilot. She had her eyes fixed on the darkness, mind wandering off into thoughts of her son. She wondered what they would do to him. Was he crying for her? Had they killed him and thrown him away like trash. Would she arrive just in time to find his lifeless little body stretched out. Her mind wandered so far away that she didn't notice him turn to her until he reached over to take her hand. When she turned to him, he was standing and pulling her with him. "You need to rest," he said, "Don't need you taking anymore naps on the job."

"_Me_ napping," she laughed, "You were the one counting sheep in the middle of the landing strip." He smirked at her slightly and she smiled in return. He'd seen the worry on her face and she was glad he'd torn her attention away from the negative thoughts. Thinking like that would make her lose her mind as they floated through space. She gave his hand a coy squeeze and went to let it go only to find his hand tightened around hers. He stepped closer to her and pulled her in close.

Riddick brought her hand up to lay on the back of his head and leaned down to embrace her. She was so small in comparison that he ended up having to curl all of that height over her. She gently trailed her fingers back and forth on the back of his head. Holding him this way, with him curled around her, she half expected him to sob. Instead he turned his face into her neck and planted a soft kiss there. She shuddered. He smiled.

"Don't," she whispered but he did it again, dotting a line down towards her collarbone. Her heart paused and then flared to life at twice the speed. "Stop."

"Why," he paused where he was.

She meant to give him a reason but his lips on her skin were too distracting for her to think straight. That moment of hesitation was enough. His arms tensed a split second before he lifted her up. He wrapped a hand around the back of her thigh bringing the leg up to wrap around his waist and continued to kiss down her chest until her shirt blocked his way. He sat her down on one of the passenger seats that folded out into a cot. Laramie's head was clearer now that their bodies weren't touching so much. She hadn't even noticed him carry her to the seat. He tugged at her shirt, "Off."

"No," she said, a bit dazzed, "We can't. There's too much going on for this to be even remotely appropriate. We need to focus on getting back to that planet."

"The ship will get us there in as little time as possible," he retorted, "In the mean time, you can strip or I can strip you." He voice was deep and stern, as if she hadn't had a choice, but she knew too well that the choice was hers. He just had some very strong methods of persuasion.

She took too long and he slid a hand up her shirt, caressing his way up her stomach and sending a violent shiver up her spine. She pressed a hand into his chest, prepared to push him away, but as he gripped her breast she instinctively pulled him closer instead. His other hand came around to her back and pulled her shirt off over her head.

She gave in as he devoured her, all hands and mouth and warmth slowly escalating into heat. He leaned back away from her, goggles gone and eyes squinted. She shuddered and tried to make her breaths calm and her heart beat slower. He smiled and as she brought her darkening gaze up to meet his she knew he was going to say something she didn't like.

"You're right," he said, voice mockingly repentant, "This is not the time." He stepped away from her and she glared after him. "We have more important things to do. I mean, look at all these fuckin' stars." He made a sharp gesture towards the window with stars glittering outside of it. "We should be enjoyin' this shit. Come on, let's count 'em. 1….2….3…"

She stood from the seat sprinting and jumped onto his back, pressing her skin onto his where his shirt permitted. He chuckled, that rare sound, and pulled her around to the front of him so their gazes could meet. He leaned in and kissed her softly at first and then it intensified, spreading heat through them both. She pulled away first, "Don't start what you can't finish," she whispered in the same mocking tone he'd had.

"Can't finish," he asked, eyes gone serious "You must have forgotten who you're talking to."

"Must have," she mumbled, bringing her face in close to his again, "How about a reminder?" He let out an amused grunt that didn't match the almost predator expression on his face. She leaned in to rest her cheek against the fabric of his shirt and hooked a hand under the hem, gathering the fabric and giving it a small upwards tug. "Off."


End file.
